I don't know how much I expected people to know each other. I've come to realize that it's a luxury to want a person to feel me the way I feel that person. There may not be another piece of the puzzle that perfectly fits me, and if there was, it would be one in seven billion that I could never find in my life. Admitting this truth is like shattering my idealism and letting me go back to the real world.
The feelings always mix in my mind. While I admit that there is no such thing as complete empathy, at same time I can't help but hope that there is. You know…it is like when you haven't seen something, you can say it exists, and you can also say it doesn't exist. It depends on my own opinion, not on truth...Especially when I describe specific thoughts and feelings.
As I walked in the dry, hot Albuquerque sun today, all I could think about was spring coming and the trees and grass growing in my hometown. Even if I described every drop of dew on the leaves, would somebody feel the same as I do?