Separate and Apart

I’ve always felt somewhat apart. Separate, a bit different. An outsider of sorts. Believing that there may be others, now unknown, who like before, will want to do us harm. Harm because of who we are. Yes, of course I now feel safe. But didn’t we in all the pasts? It’s not a fear, it’s a guarded anticipation, because evil stalks, especially this evil. No, it doesn’t preoccupy my thoughts. But hasn’t history regularly repeated itself for us? Haven’t we been discriminated against, tortured, enslaved, murdered, even within the brief

span of my days? Just because of belief, culture, genetics. Why should I assume ‘never again’, where is the experiential rationality in that? With the Holocaust so recent, and it having emerged from, and been embraced by, ‘cultured’ societies, and with new Holocausts being called for, hoped for, by so many, the thought is not so irrational, is it?....is it?