Once I read a book about goodness, evil, God, miracles and stuff like that.
It was a really beautiful book. I tried to experience the book as real life . But I'm a quite dark person and the good qualities of the book didn't really affect me. Nevertheless the book was beautiful as hell.
Perhaps I can't picture myself as part of magicians and Gods...
The book also discussed the other that we should try to free us from. The other is bad and stops us from living fully. I also thought about this. Perhaps the other was so strongly part of me that the authentic me couldn't get out. Perhaps it had never even been out in the sunlight. How could I lure it out? How would I recocnize it? Who or what was it?
Was I the other, the evil other?

In another book I read that to hope is the only way of getting through life alive. The book also said that the majority of people live only because they are afraid of dying.
Well, at least one doesn't have to be afraid alone...but on the other hand everybody lives alone and also dies alone. That's terribly scary if one doesn't really cope with herself.
I often had a quite unreal feeling, as I'd be some kind of a nice ghost wandering about by myself on this planet. Seemingly social and normal.
I even considered to start believing in God, but I didn't because I knew it wouldn't work.

I felt cold and emotionless.

Then one day a man gave me a letter on a bus. He thought I was different.
He had been watching me for many hours.
He thought I was wasting my life on nonsence. I should focus on developing my extraordinary talents.
I laughed at it. Because I was afraid.
Later I started believing in this.
I thought that I finally became someone. That finally my life had a purpose.
That The UFO's would come and bring me home.

Well, of course they didn't come.