"Does talking to yourself help, boy?
Make you feel less like an outcast?"
Othello is alone, almost completely so.
No one has ever dared speak to him, not for many years now.
He likes answering questions, but he has no way to hear questions from anyone.
That is, besides himself.
He talks to himself so much that it physically hurts him.
Everytime he realizes how much he’s ruined his own life,
How lonely he is in 55 Cancri-e,
How he wishes he had someone to talk to in the world.
It hurts his heart, making it feel like it will explode, or that it will melt away.
Though, sometimes he wonders.
Maybe one day, he will have friends.
Friends that actually care about him.
Friends that don’t leave him alone when he is ill.
Maybe he’ll be loved one day.
But that’s just wishful thinking.
Make you feel less like an outcast?"
Othello is alone, almost completely so.
No one has ever dared speak to him, not for many years now.
He likes answering questions, but he has no way to hear questions from anyone.
That is, besides himself.
He talks to himself so much that it physically hurts him.
Everytime he realizes how much he’s ruined his own life,
How lonely he is in 55 Cancri-e,
How he wishes he had someone to talk to in the world.
It hurts his heart, making it feel like it will explode, or that it will melt away.
Though, sometimes he wonders.
Maybe one day, he will have friends.
Friends that actually care about him.
Friends that don’t leave him alone when he is ill.
Maybe he’ll be loved one day.
But that’s just wishful thinking.
