but I want his wings
I can shine, even in the darkness
but I crave the light that he brings
revel in the songs that he sings
I am fine by myself, I am content with me and who I am, and yet I depend on other people. On my fascination for them, and spending a lot of time contemplating them. Who they are, how they feel and how they think, what they do and why and what makes them move forward and backwards and makes them get up in the morning and what they think about in the evening before falling asleep and why they smile and get angry or sad or happy.
And I contemplate what that makes me. What does my fascination with them make me, and my warm feelings for certain features and dislike of others and indifference to yet others? What does it make me that I react to them in certain ways, and do not in others? What am I in relation to them? Why do I depend on them? On what part of them do I depend? Do I even really depend or do I just like to think I do? Who am I? Who am I without them? Who am I in relation to them, because that is what is real – ?
I am human. They are human.