MAY 17th
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Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Tue, Sep 27, 2016
It happened, all in a huge blur. One I wish I could look back through. To analyse the pieces. To fix the broken memories, to wipe up all the tears.
But I can't. In his words, I'm not smart enough for this. I'm too young. I'm too childish.
I'm no scientist. I'll never invent a time machine, nor will I ever find a way to cure cancer, or make an elixir of life.
It's time to move on, in the best way possible.
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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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