What follows is a musing by my Victorian* friend Sara Martinez.
In case you weren't aware, "musing" is a literary genre, named by Sara, which often involves thoughts written on napkins, trees, walls and random Web sites. This musing was first published on the wildly illustrated wall of an art studio on the ACU campus. Imagine it's written in blue marker.
I am myself, a single, whole entity, having only one physical manifestation and occupying only a set length of time, having only one soul, whose destiny is unique. Yet I am myself a plurality, made of various, uncertainly connected, discrete parts.
For I am made of emotions that bow to various masters, of thoughts born from various progenitors, of opinions that have grown from, are growing from, or have yet to grow from seeds sown by various cultivators.
My heart cannot be said to be one to give to one, for it is free for the tearing to many, who may hate me, who may love me, who may never have even imagined my existence.
I am not of a uniform, singular, or unique spirit, being prone to mercurial changes in tone of mind and direction of purpose.
Bearing all this in mind, then, though I am but one person, in what way, exactly, am I an individual?
* "Victorian" as in "from Victoria", with no connotations of prudishness or steampunk.
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