Thinking

There he was, sat on his own, that boy that thought he was so different, but as much as he hated to admit it was still human.  He'd thought his way through everything; the world, people, what it all meant and yet he was still where he began, for all that had happened in his mind, he was still just sat there.
It's the little things that make you happy, little actions, little words, little thoughts.
Yet, he still felt the need to fill his mind with big things, with big ideas, big worries.
He was sure that with enough thought he could make sense of anything, make sense of everything.