You tell me that you love your solitude. Everything that you say sounds like it came out of my own brain. It doesn’t make sense to me that we are strangers, and yet it makes perfect sense, because I don’t think you can feel this way about anyone who is real. 

When you talk about standing in your room daring the forces of evil to take you on, I know that you were having the same conversation when I said that I was willing to get dragged through the mud. 

Somehow I know that these moments are connected. I know that they happened at the same time on the same day. I know that we are connected by a string through time and space and that on that day, we were on different sides of a black hole. 

And we are staring at each other through the wormhole. The tunnel that distorts the world. 

And this must be how everyone feels, right? Over a million other people must feel this way. Is it just the human experience? Are we all connected in this way? It’s different for me, right?