Psychic Identification

While I had another nightmare, it appears I'm getting good at mentally blocking them from haunting my waking hours. I can barely recall the details now, but I'm sure my messy psyche will sort itself out in time. I was sorting through my collection of writings packed in four boxes under my table, and all the old memories flooded back. Some of happier times long gone, some of fights best left forgotten. Again, I cannot stress how long and difficult it was for me to learn that my gift with words and intuition cannot be taken lightly. I've learned to contain my temper, and while that leash is not unbreakable, it serves its purpose. I hope I will never again fly off the handle and destroy something that I cherish because I could in a fit of anger. As I write this and watch the night cloak the world in its comforting veil, I cannot help but wonder if ever I will find someone who can see the way I do. I agree that recently my instincts have been nothing short of frazzled. But still, when I stand under the dome of the heavens and look up at the twinkling stars in their eternal bed of velvet, I wonder if there is anyone out there who feels the way I do about the world, if perhaps our theories and philosophies regarding the world that surrounds us, both real and ethereal, share common threads. At times I feel that I'm wasting my time by being me...someone who thinks too much and does nothing at all, except think. And at other times, I feel pity for those who rush around without finding deeper meanings to their existences. These ovesized insects who rush around to fulfill their needs in the material world. Sometimes, when I'm out, and I see how they rush past small miracles, like an embattled flower that blooms in trampled grass, in outright defiance of fate, I cannot help but wonder if this is the fate of humanity. That we get so caught up in our own lives that we forget the rest of the world. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some hippie tree-hugger who goes around carrying placards with 'Save the earth!' on it. It's just...there are bigger things to think about. So why does it seem that I'm the only one who does? As our jungle changes from green to the dull grayness of concrete, I find myself wondering if in the process we lose our souls too. I cannot count the many times I've left home in the middle of the night to sit in a garden somewhere, surrounded by as many cats as I could attract. While they purred around me, and I watched the nocturnal creatures awaken, that for me was paradise. I could sit in comfortable companionship and mental calmness, while the affectionate creatures made me feel safe. At times I feel so out of place from this world where everyone is integrated into society. Where do I fit in? Perhaps every man has that question. Me with my eclectic mix of thoughts regarding God and his legion of angels, fallen or otherwise, my interest in things scattered through the broad spectrum of this world...I truly fail to see how I can connect with peers my age, or perhaps even older. I've tried to connect, but really, it seems all the people I've tried to mix with are conceited peacocks more interested in being popular with the 'in crowd'. Not one of them would even look at the multitude of nature's beauty surrounding them, being more concerned with their own. I am someone who can feel the energy in a song, I am someone who cries over dead trees in private. I am someone who sees death even with my eyes tightly closed. What does that make me? I end with a great sigh, not one of sadness, but one of contentment for the beauty of the night that envelops me now.
Gabriel, I trust you to be my guiding light in times of darkness.