A Theory...

When I was little, about 14 years of age, I came up with a theory. I decided within myself that it had to be a novel thought. Surely, I could have a thought not shared by a million other minds.

I was fixated on the idea, and I couldn't stop proposing it to anyone who inched closer to me. I was obsessed with the satisfactory reaction it gained me, as if I had unlocked the secrets of the world.

Maybe for 14 year old me, it was quite the secret of the world after all. The secret of human working. So, here's how the theory went; Each of us are trying to give the world exactly what we do not have. In a way, it is therapeutic to know that someone in the world has something that I, for one, do not.

What was my empirical evidence?

I knew of a renowned man, a public figure, who built a cancer hospital because he lost his mother to cancer. He could not get her treated, and despite his success, the loss is probably what stuck with me. He might have thought to himself, this world should have something that would save my mother.

But little did anyone know (including my novel 14-year-old self), how desperately I was trying to think into existence, something that would save me.

This world should have something that saves fourteen year olds who are lost.

It should be kinder. It should be softer. It should tell people that everything's going to be okay.

Maybe the truth was simply that I needed to believe people were saved in the world.

Perhaps, I needed to be saved.

I needed to know that the world, in some other universe, would have saved me too.