Belonging.

Nothing belongs to me. Nothing material, nothing physical, nothing emaginable, not another human being,not even my own body. Anything I could ever concieve at the very most is my own interepretation of others combined thoughts and ideas. There is nothing basically original,only percieved orginality through complexity. Whether intellectually intentional, or non-intellectual non-intentional genius. Therefore one cannot be disconcerted if another individual finds some other individual to be much more compatable. Everything is perishable. Then most things have potential too. Excuse me while I think out loud. I would like to belong. If I have ever felt a close sensation to belonging,it was never more than with James. He is a home. If home is where we all reside, where do we holiday? What is more important, one week with the sand in your hair, or a lifetime knowing your flaws are more than tolerable? :)