Solitaire

I do not like sharing consciousness with other people,having their memories inside me and mine in them.It reminds me of my childhood, many nights half-sleeping,when hours of dreaming and waking confused the two.

The falling rain, humiliated by the ground,must continue its incessant falling. Nothing can be alone.Even my dreams are populated with other people.My thoughts are the thoughts of others, and my mood

is so easily bullied by other moods. How am I anythingmore than communal, common, disposable?Another piece of debris floating down the river,property of everyone, made by everybody.

I don’t believe I have one single thing to myself.Not a human body. Not even my consciousness.Stupid reader, am I anything more than the excess of you?What could I possibly be that didn’t depend on you?

And who are you, exactly? How is your existence any different?Walking around in your mind, I find absolutely nothing new.What was unique in me has been lost into you,and what you are, I am unfortunately becoming.