8 billion. That’s the number of bodies that make up the world. And mine is one of them. And so is hers, and his, and theirs, and ours. The sizes they vary, and from them, personalities spring, some of them pleasant and some of them not.
As far as size goes, mine falls into the spectacular range–towering in height, built like an ox, bronze complexion, naughty not nice. As far as personality goes, mine is less pleasant than most–obnoxiously loud, judgmental and distant, witty and rude, naughty not nice.
1 of 8 billion.
That’s me.
That’s her.
That’s him.
That’s them.
That’s us.
US. It’s that one that lingers in mind for much longer than the others. What bodies make us? There’s me and there’s… who? 8 billion bodies in the world, and it’s that ONE that lingers in mind for much longer than the others.
There has to be one.
Somebody. Anybody? Everybody. Nobody?
“It’s you. It’s always been you.”
SowItCrazedPoet 