there are many things i cannot understand, most of the things that happen, or simply are, escape my grasp. i'm sorry to say that i am the piece in the puzzle that doesn't seem to fit anywhere -probably in another puzzle, one lost, or forgotten-, i'm sorry to say that i can't do anything to remedy anything, i am just here to look and to strive for attention, i am here to be what no one notices, what no one cares if wrong... i'm sorry i can't be the interlude in others' pain, i'm sorry i am always sorry for something; i heard something really nice today that has stuck to my brain in a manner i cannot yet begin to understand [spinoza. E. D. M. G. IV, 44], maybe all i need to get through is something nice from someone else. but these someoneS seem to be in as much pain as i am and have been before. what am i to do with the frustration brought forth by impotence? i don't know much anymore, i don't think i've really ever known anything but the evidence of my tiny helpless existence is enough to make me wonder if interaction is going as it should. aren't we here to be comforted by others and not by other's pain? as i once thought, there is much that i can do but am not entirely resolved to do so... then again, maybe it is not a matter of will, maybe being convinced of the possibility of changing something has corrupted what lays behind my eyes to the point of feeling too frustrated by something that is so very natural in all of us: impotence of change, irrelevance.