many silentbob a lot of people are just vicious 011127 ... Sonya Many faces passing by, each holding their own novels of joy, tragedy, fear, and hope. I wish I could read them all. I wish I could sit and listen to these people until the day I died...and I don't even know them. Is this is a strange feeling? Does anyone else ever feel this way? I don't think anything has ever intrigued or frightened me as much as other people and their experiences. Right now someone else on the planet is probably writing these exact same words, but I likely will not meet him or her or talk about some obscure novel over a smoothie. There are so many wants and needs among our kind, but what I want most is seemingly impossible. I want to be there for everyone and embrace their trials too. I want to watch over people who I can't fully understand and give them a hug. I want to be that next rose in the bouquet of many people that gets leaned on. 030124 what's it to you? who go blather from