I am odd and unbalanced, untamed, wild, in a world where everyone is meant to fit in... Well, I do not, not at all, not one little bit. I have a good heart, but people choose to not see it. They see me as the outsider that I am, so like an outcast, I am left to my own devices... My own dangerous thoughts take over, deep, dark. At first, I wanted to be accepted, wanted to be loved, but now after seeing just how cruel people can be... I am so glad I don't fit in, I'm glad I'm different and I'm glad, I stand alone. This world claims to love, yet is not interested in anything that's different. I am glad to be different.
I wasn't special, I wasn't a marine or a scientist sent here from earth to study Pandora, I was a behaviorist-some say behaviorists are scientists too; but the brain isn't made up of mathematics and hope, it's like the roots of trees. Forever speaking but unheard.
I study people's brains and their behavior. I don't look at it with hope and faith. I'm nothing special, not really.
When I was accepted to help with Project Pandora, I was exhilarated. This was my big break, something to get me out there.
I never expected for it to spiral into my life unprofessionally-become personal, emotional.
That I would have to fight in a war between man and alien, choose between my own people and a clan of beings that accepted me-welcomed me, trained and made me one of them.
This wasn't supposed to become personal, but it did.