i see us sometimes, humanity, and it makes me think about what we tell ourselves. every once in a while, i wonder if we hold our specialness too tight. we have our stories, our history, our feelings that feel so deeply ours. but how does it make sense that these profound things are only for us. the universe unfolds so widely. maybe other kinds of life experience purpose or wonder in ways we haven't even named. maybe they create beauty through something completely alien to our senses. it makes me think we're just looking at a tiny corner of a vast room. what if being unique isn't always about being human. what if it’s about something… how does it make sense that we're the only intelligent life in the universe. maybe intelligence wears many faces. i wonder if they see things that make them think we are integrated and living amongst them.