...the truth is I can't help it...whenever the sky is covered with heavy, grey clouds, whenever the wind starts blowing among the trees and blocks around, whenever the rain comes falling down from above, my spirit starts crushing too...and with a chill, I start thinking about...hmm...about all that is not so bright, that is not so cheerful...like how strange we, people are...the thought imprinted in our mind about ourselves as unique, peerless personalities makes us feel rather special and helps us start over and over and over again...but I wonder...what is so unique about us? My mind tries to stop thoughts like these bumping up by whispering: hey, you fool, don't you remember that God throw away every template after creating each one of us? Ey, and how often you cried this out loud, like a hero? Huh?

...yes, indeed, but you know, God, I must tell you this, 'cause I know you won't mind: we are all just the same. Mainly, we live the same life, struggle the same way for existence, wishing to play when we are little, wanting to grow up, then trying to become someone, searching our own way, building up relationships, fighting for a career, dreaming of love and family,  aiming for a higher purpose of life...failing and wishing we  could be children again...aren't we just the same in these things...this makes us  so undeniably "human" . And our always haunting desire, from which we cannot escape of: to LOVE and even more, TO BE LOVED...we are not so special, as a singular personality...we feel the  same, we live the same, we die the same...and God, you created us like this...and please don't mind, but today I'm just having difficulties believing I'm one of a kind and special...

Today is the day when I feel like there isn't one single tiny thought, feeling, act or movement in me that's authentic, original...I feel like a little package on a production line who woke up from his sleepwalking and realized that there were many many similar packages on the endless line...

In conclusion...further counterfeit thoughts are of no use to be written down...perhaps, God, we should wait the rain to stop...