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Unique

I long to be unique. Not in the way you would comfort a child by telling them they are special, but in the drastically different and worthwhile sense. Individuality is worthless by itself - I want some realization of my dream that there is yet merit in myself. I fear that there is nothing inherently good and interesting in my nature and intellect alone. To merely belong to the great teeming mass of humanity is not the goal to which I aspire. Instead I seek to be set apart from all else, in some small way.

I feel the pressing need to create something. Something that is wonderful and new and deep and moving - something no one else can or will ever create. Perhaps it is a poem, that no person may read without being reduced to tears or having their life outlook profoundly affected. It must be a poem with which anyone and everyone cannot help but identify and understand with the very core of their being. Maybe I have in me a novel that dissects the very fabric of humanity and reveals the obvious truths about us as a race for further study.

Whatever it is, it must express my true nature to everyone who studies carefully. I suffer from the very human need of wanting to be understood, and through understanding, accepted. Different as I am, acceptance and recognition are still persistent goals that I have set for myself. The irony is that over my life I have not yet learned to sufficiently understand myself. Thus my self-expression would be truly remarkable, leaping directly from my subconscious and teaching others things I do not outwardly know.

© 2002 Robert H. Harrison