I’ve been doing some thinking about being again. Every once in a while I am struck with the odd sensation that I exist. I think. I feel pain. I have a cold. I am exhausted. Somewhere, I possess enough strength to finish this homework. And all of this me-ness is wrapped up and shoved inside this mechanism I walk around in.
And there are millions, trillions of other existences that have been. They walk(ed), felt, hurt. But not like me. I am unique. I am the only me out of all of them.
Sometimes thinking about that (all that smashed into about 2 or 4 seconds) weirds me out.
And then sometimes I think it would be pretty sweet to be these people.