Maybe it's Suicide

Maybe it's Suicide

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Apr 27, 2015
"So, then, Jane, tell me, why is it that you think you and all your colleagues come here? Er, to therapy I mean, or maybe the mental hospital. Or both," Skittle asked me. I think after my second day here, he already doesn't know what to say to me. "I think we are all here because we think we're crazy and we need someone to convince us that we aren't."
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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.

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