It is funny being a human being while simultaneously having the awareness that you're every other human being and have also been every human being that has come before you. Here I am stacked on the shoulder-tops of every human before me, toppling, balancing, failing, succeeding.
It is funny.
It is funny and it is magical.
Yesterday my boyfriend told me that he has always been a serious person. Which led me to wonder about what kind of person I am. I can feel the eagerness drifting around my head like an eye mask; sustaining my curiosity and keeping me blind from the puzzle I am engulfed in. Have I ever been called serious? No. Not by anyone who knows me, at least.
So what kind of person am I? Any answer I summon will alter in some mode, if not completely, by next morning. Would it be possible to begin answering this question by whatever is around me? Right now I am perched at a table in the coffeehouse where I work. My head sits politely yet secretly in front of my aged but functional laptop. What am I right now? A barista? A person who can't afford a newer model of laptop? You can't draw anything about my sentiments from a description like that. But am I my sentiments? And if I am, am I also the sentiments of every single person I have ever been? Am I the sentiments of every person in this coffeehouse if they are all me?
Am I the man who angrily subjected me to the wrath of his Honda car horn on the way here?
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