He sits there at the edge of the room, holding a red plastic cup in his hand. In front of him, others sway to the catchy beat of the music playing. Some talk, some laugh. He watches. Two or three people occasionally greet him. He nods, smiles. A polite reply, but no more. Instead, he contemplates on who he is. And he reflects.

He is biased, yet he is disinterested.

He is apathetic, yet he goes on.

He is straightforward, yet he is withdrawn.

He is honest, and yet he is a hypocrite.

He believes, but he is cynical.

He is pretentious, yet simple.

His mouth says one thing, but his heart and mind and soul feel and think and do the opposite. How?

He shakes his head and returns to reality, but fades out almost immediately. He realizes that he is there, but yet not there. That he is himself, but not himself. That he is everyone, and yet no one. He is someone, and not someone. He is a walking contradiction in almost every respect…and yet, somehow, he makes perfect sense.

And then he realizes—no, I realize—he is me. That I am he. That everyone is who he is, and he is who everyone else is. We are him, and he is us. But still, somehow, he is no one, and none of us are him.

It’s a paradox. It’s an absurd contradiction. He knows it. I know it.

And somehow, still, it almost makes sense.


Less than three,

A generation goes and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever. –Ecclesiastes 1:4

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