And then, I realized I was talking to myself

*Before I begin I would like to point out how very aware I am that this is probably close to a Universal complaint. I realize the lack of originality in the post, but I wrote it anyway.*

Sometimes I like to pretend that two people could entirely relate to each other.

Maybe I read too much. You can read whatever you want into books. They always say what you want them to say.
Maybe it's the music. Paul always seems to say things that are relevant to me.

Whatever it is I find myself thinking that someone relates so well to me and I to them. And my mind goes off creating an entirely new life for them. And then the fantasy is shattered when I get to know them.

Ulysses has a commentary on the inability of men to really know each other. Pages upon pages of two men thinking throughout the book of all of the things of their lives the one wanting to get to know the other only to have them run into each other at the end, have a shallow conversation, and go their separate ways.

Perhaps I've been corrupted by what I consider one of the most beautiful lines from one of the most beautiful scenes in literature (which is a slight spoiler for Crime and Punishment by the way and is much better in context, read the book):

"I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of humanity,"

Maybe I just want someone to love that scene and all things like it and relate to them in the same way I do.

That'd probably be enough. But probably not.