I am not a creature meant for the ark.

I was made for the old world, for the flood. I do not come in pairs.

I'm not the man I thought I was. Not the man I think I am. It is deeply disturbing to see a stranger in the mirror. When I lift my hand he does not lift his. When I furrow my brow he shakes his head. When I speak he interrupts.

There is inherent in the human soul or psyche or whatever you call it a dichotomy. I say dichotomy and not duality because in my experience it is more often a conflict than any sort of harmonious difference. I sometimes get along with me. It seems that way, at least. Probably I've only made a truce out of convenience, because I'm hatching some plot against myself or I need to recover from the last one.

This is natural. If you don't live like this you're a liar. If you don't, and you're not lying but genuinely not at any sort of odds with yourself, I admire you but I do not understand you at all. We might derive from entirely separate races. By races I do not mean I come from Canada and you come from Somalia so we're different races. I mean like I'm a dog and you're a mountain.

That's not to say I've never had moments of peace. I'm generally content with my life and with my decisions, in fact. This is the man I think I am. The man I actually am prefers still waters so he doesn't thrash but drowns tranquilly.

God that sounds melodramatic. Really I'm drinking hot chocolate house-sitting for a best friend more wonderful than I deserve. I've got a solid job and I'm writing often which is my only redemption and I have very few complaints at all about anything. I'm too stubborn to suffer a real identity crisis and too easily amused to sustain any kind of depression. Probably I make things sound worse because it makes me feel more important. Whatever.

The world didn't end. It never does.