The Voice in Your Head Isn’t Alone

I wish I could understand so many things: how someone can say they love you and hurt you so deeply that death starts to look like comfort, and nostalgia becomes a kind of questionable remedy. How an average man—a churchgoer, a family man—can do things so vile it makes the world feel upside down.

I wish I could understand why every time I ask Siri to play my “Thumbs Up” radio, she insists on a station called Thumbs Up My Butt. (Sorry, Siri. Not that kind of party.)

Trying to understand things is… deliciously curious. It’s fun, it’s enticing, it’s like sniffing the frosting off a cake before anyone tells you it’s poisoned. I wouldn’t have a job, a salary, or even something to do if I didn’t chase the beat of a human heart or the restless sigh of a wandering mind. But we do it because we care. We do it because we love.

Because without understanding, the mind is dormant. And it won’t stay dormant. It will express itself—sometimes loud, sometimes chaotic, sometimes… absurdly beautiful. And you, my friend, get the luxury of experiencing it: through ears that listen, a body that feels, even if it’s tangled up in your fantasies, our wildest fantasies, and the strange little worlds we dare to imagine but would not dare to confess.