Life is a paradox.

Everyone wants to live a long life, but no one wants to be old. A student wishes for summer all year, but complains of boredom the first day. No one likes to be ill, but people still like to complain about their many diseases. I have often seen people going on for hours, each trying to out-do the other in their list of grievances. It doesn't make sense. Or maybe it does.

People like to feel special. No matter how shy the person is, or how modest they might appear outwardly, they all feel that need to find something that sets them apart from the rest of the crowd. Something that sets them above. Some little thing, good or bad, that will prove to the entire world that they existed. They lived.

I think the greatest paradox is that everyone struggles so hard to be special, to be remembered, and yet, everyone will eventually die and be forgotten.

Everyone wants to be special…

As I am right now, I guess you could call me 'special.' A soul trapped in a suit of armor isn't exactly common-place. I have unlimited stamina, can brave any weather, and stand-out above the crowd quite literally. I am special.

But, what about when I get my body back, will I be so 'special' then? Is that a good thing? As much as I hate this body that I'm in, it is now a part of me. I want to touch, smell, taste, and dream again with every particle I possess, but I have to admit that there might be a small part of those particles that is loath to return to ordinary. That is afraid of becoming common-place, of being forgotten – becoming nothing.

This is a paradox.

As long as I am aware of this, I don't feel that I will hesitate when the moment arrives to return to the world of the common person. As long as I can face my doubts and acknowledge that they exist, they will not dictate what I do.

That is my hope.