“You’ve said all this before.” says the other he with frustration as the two sit fishing on the edge of a river. “You’ve expressed these frustrations and what I hear you telling me is that you don’t like being human.”
He says, “That is not fair. I like being human because I like being alive.”
“You like being alive?” the other he asks. “You could have fooled me, everything seems to be a labor for you. You don’t understand simple things that make life livable for most human beings.”
“Wow, I’m speechless.” he says. “Just because I question doesn’t mean that I want throw it all away. I just want to understand why we as people are happy to go through motions without many questions. It’s not enough for me to hear that we do things because that’s how they’re done. So I ask unpopular questions, I get shooed out of offices and shunned from gatherings. If anything, it’s others who don’t accept my humanity, I have only ever shown fascination with theirs.”
“Well your intentions are never clear.” says the other he. “Your questions feel like aggressions.”
“They feel that way to you?” he asks. “You view me as an aggressor?”
“Well no, but I know you.” the other he says. “I know that you are only thirsty for a truth that gels with your reason and I never view our disagreements as indictments of one another. We are friends.”
“So I must become a friend of the people?” he asks.
“If you wish to be understood.” the other he answers.
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