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I keep wanting to understand why I have this human need to be wanted and loved, I write to myself three years ago at 33 years old, 33,928 feet above the earth. I'm supposed to be better than this, I tell myself in pen. I'm supposed to be some all-knowing G-d-self spiritual soul.
And yet, here I am wearing all this flesh. Here I am performing human. And life. Here I am in this costume of skin. With these body parts. And these urges. And this heart. This heart. And oh, how it wants to dance. Not because it is empty. On the contrary. It is so, so full.
And that - actually - is what it wants to share. That is the game it wants to play. Like - this sandbox is so fucking goddamn great. And it will be extra fun - more than it already is - when you, whomever you are, come in here to play too.
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