Sure, I was like you. I wanted answers. I wanted facts. I needed measurements, and charts, and graphs. Show me a picture, write me a book. It didn't matter how big or small the subject. I had to look, know, feel it. The world owed me an explanation, and I got it. Oh boy. Now look at me!
The body changes. You are not the you from yesterday. No. The same name, the same shoes, the same clothes. But all that you learn takes you further from yourself, and deeper into the mad dangerous visions of strangers. Strangers with strange minds get in and blanket your brain with all those measurements, and facts, and biographical histories. Whatever your brain had tried to grow is now smothered. The light cannot reach you anymore. The wind is blocked by the rabble of expert opinions. A neat and tidy facade covering the great unknowable.
In such a poisonous environment, the body will change. Each little fact working and distorting. The cells will change. Every seven years the cells have replaced themselves. Who are you? Whose ideas have nurtured your new growth?
Sure, this brand of mine is a tower. This skull of mine fortress. The cells multiplied to accommodate all the new strangers who moved in. A tenement. I'm never lonely. But to look at the night and know terror again. To eat hard candy with the same relish as I do steak. To look and not know. What I wouldn't do to have that back.
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