One day, you will know how it feels to be the

Outcast,

The one whispered and tittered about, as you walk the gauntlet of public opinion on the way to class, or your job, or whatever.

One day you’ll know how that feels, but

You will never know how it feels to speed across deserts, windows down, wind whipping through your hair, like I am now.

You will never know how it feels to sit on this lofty vista, to breathe in the rarified air of this moment, a time which will never come again:

Alive, precious, unique, one of a kind.

You will never know what it’s like to be me.

You will never know what you’re missing.