Another day

I still can't help you. But the most important questions a person can ask himself are those concerning other people: who are they? What are they doing? Where are they? And where are they going? Discovering that you are a self, fragile and contingent, is frightening. In whatever terms it occurs, however, you understand who you are. But who are they? They seem like you, but are they? Do they exist? It is into a terrifying void that you peer when you look another person in the eyes. What lives there, behind the sparkle? How are we to account for their continued existence, their relation to us, and our relation to them? We consider suicide first, and we must, but having dismissed it as unnecessary how do we understand murder, our responsibility to and from others? How do you relate to him who you have never met and will never see? Today I have only questions, that only I can ask, and only you can answer. Who are you?