I often wonder how many people out there I have met for the last time ever. The people I walk past each day, I won’t see most of them again. I won’t even speak to them. Our entire contact will be walking past each other.
And the people from school. People I saw every day. 90% of them I probably won’t even walk past in the street again.
It’s fucking sad.
Each of these people have their own lives, their own issues. I will never know what it is to be anyone but me. I will never understand or even know what they’ve been through- good and bad. I walk past someone and will wonder, “Who have you lost? What awful things have happened to you? Have you had a happy life so far?” and so much more.
It’s absurd, but it really does upset me that I will never ever 100% understand the world from anyone’s point of view but my own. Hell, I don’t even understand my point of view half the time. In my previous post I talked about how sometimes I felt tiny and sometimes I felt infinite. Thinking about the fact that I will never be anyone but Erin Barker is sort of frightening (unless Buddha had it right, and I hope not, because when I die I want that to be it. The end.).
Sorry for all the deep posts tonight- think I need to get out more!