Axon Trouble

'You say you understand, but I know for a fact that you don't. I used to be like you, a happy larval. You think you feel things, but you don't. You think you think things, but you don't. I know you think you're real, but you aren't real yet. If I told you this, you'd think I just want to prove that I'm better, you'd think I'm arrogant, but that's just how things are.'

Silence. They don't answer, at all. I said things. I spoke my mind, and they don't reply. They say they understand, and that's all. That's nothing. I can see, hear, taste, smell and touch that they don't.

Opinions for some people are like jewelry - they pick them for the occasion, put them on, and take them off when no longer needed. My opinions grow like acne on my face, like branches from a tree. They are part of my being, who I am, therefore they are continually changing. Your fucking earring-opinion will be the same even after you're dead. My opinions are dendrites thirsty for stimulation, but no matter how far I reach out, I cannot suck up information from my peers. Am I a different type of neuron? Are the neurotransmitter supplies drying out on me? Am I a lonely cell in the middle of nowhere? What's going on?

Silence. Am I inadequat? Boring? Are they trying to punish me for something? Are they stupid?
Do they care?
Sometimes I indulge in the nietzshe-esque pain of chosenness. But it is still pain, even if it's illusion.

I have lost a cat today.
He was my only friend.