I am the collective dream of billions of neurons. I am the ecology of these countless cells that each know their own purpose and time, lest they be called a cancer. Yet I am curiously one, strangely alone in the song of the night. Do these parts of me remember the things I have gone through? The scars seem to say yes, but I feel mostly as if there is someone inside me who has gone through the trials with only the help of God above. I am many, if I think on it, many that know not why they go this way, why they do this, and that. And I think that perhaps I am like this, too, that there is some body which I am a part of, and I know not what the central “I” within it all has done, not really. I only bear some of the scars.
