“I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.” – Confucius

I have thought about various things that make me human. The bed at night, the bottle of water that I love, a letter that I wrote to my dead friend once.

The things that make me human also make me not so much of a human at the very same time. Between linguistic jargon and half-hearted memories what actually makes me, me, is debatable indeed.

A walked through the park with the person I kissed once and never saw again, my first sex ed class that made me feel like an alien, the ever changing obsessions that I live for, it all makes me different yet relatable. Like a box of matches that is empty. Useful, yet useless. Beautiful yet dangerous. New yet very out of date.

I exist regardless. Like an old Elvis record at the end of my grandfather’s bookshelf. Like an evidence of something that heard, saw, understood and yet did not react or reciprocate. Like something novel but not really.

It is difficult to exist this way but that is what makes it worth it every single day.