Wondering

    Tapping my pencil on the plastic desk, I think about which of the various assignments strewn on the table I should work on until my forehead pulses with pain. I give up on being productive, and wonder about the world - there's so much to do, so much to see, and so many people to meet. The latter of those points strikes me as the greatest aspect of our society. Humans are simply so different from each other, and though they spend so much time around each other, they know next to nothing about one another. I wonder often what it is like to be one of the people surrounding me. As I lie in bed at night, I float of into my own world and wriggle into the stories of other people - or at least, the lives I imagine they lead.

    Though I am surrounded by humans, I still must wonder about them. I write a story for each person, pretending I know every nook and cranny of their mind. In my brain, there is an entire world of people, people who look like those around me. However, because they look like my classmates, family, and sworn enemies does not mean they share any resemblance to them. My humans are all cardboard cut-outs, an attempt to mimic the complexity and oddities of human nature. Though I often fail in my attempts to precisely tell the story of someone's life, the end product is something beautiful - I have created a new human. A human just as beautiful as the ones in our world, and I wonder about all the other worlds out there, all the other people with stories to tell. And it strikes me as it has time and time before: I know nothing of the world. This beautiful, imperfectly human circle of Homo sapiens.