being human

To love and to be loved are both very earthly acts of notions that defines us as humans, a higher form of species that sets us apart from our mammal counterparts.

To be accepted, however, is an universal notion on how any and every living thing perceives itself and the act of trust in a being.

I admit that I am never the person that I always perceive that I am. I am not smart, neither am I 'cool' nor robust in emotions. I am weak, a soul in need of a new host and a mind that is so fragile, a single thought could break it, leaving it in small, prickly pieces that no one would want to pick up. 

Defamation, altercations,  alternations... Every single thing that I did, every act that I am about to do is never rational, because life is not rational. Life is an never ending pool of self reflection, and what I see is that of a spineless cur, a villain that has no motives, but rather to seek and destroy anything he or she sees just because the almighty Life told him or her so.

I am not perfection. In fact, as any normal human would explain to you in various different ways, no one is never, ever perfect. 

So why do you view me as a model of stereotyped imperfection?

I do not get it, and perhaps I never will. Maybe I am devoid of emotions, after all. 

Maybe.