I have nothing for you.
I write stories and they’re virtually ignored.
Perhaps I think too highly of myself.
To expect to be noticed.
Except this: the rudeness of people is just a cover for the uncertainty they feel about themselves. I watched a group of women talking this evening and as I did so I sat back and thought to myself that I’m the odd one out here. But then I noticed that only two of the women were making all the noise and I looked closely at the faces of the other two and I realised that they feel like the odd one out too. In fact, I think we all do. I think that you think that you think that you are the odd one out too. But listen: it’s not true. Granted we’re all odd in all our different ways, but another way of saying that is that we’re all individually unique and special. The other thing is that none of us is out either. We are all in. We’re all a part of one gigantic and wonderful organic/spiritual … thing. So yeah, the truth is that none of us is the odd one out. We are all the special one in. That includes you too. And me.