Finite. Falliable.

I am amazed at life.

How does it do this?

I'm listening to Greensleeves. Can you believe that Henry VIII wrote this?

Once upon a time, Henry had a huge thing for Anne Boleyn.

He was so enamored with her that he started his own church in order to divorce his wife.

This man threw down with the POPE to get his way.

After that went through, he married Anne.

They had little Queen Elizabeth,

and then they had three miscarriages.

No one thinks about what that was like for Anne.

After this, he had her beheaded for failing to produce a son.

No one thinks about what that was like for Henry, because obviously Henry had no feelings.

We're wrong. He did.

That man wrote Greensleeves, which to me is proof of feeling.

He felt many things, especially for Anne, the girl this song was written for.

How could we understand him?

Sometimes people tell me I am strange.

I think they're right.

Sometimes people tell me I will not find another person to match me.

You know, like I don't get to marry someone I've been hoping for.

I don't get to feel what that is like.

Because I am just an odd girl... maybe I'll just do my writing thing and be fine alone.

Sometimes I hear these things.

"I just don't know how you'll find a boy who rolls outta bed in his t-shirt and plays in the mud with you-- but also bears his soul. I don't think there are boys that do both."

And plus... if you were to find him... he'd still have to want you back.

And so somewhere in my subconscious,

I was preparing myself to settle.

Because I am strange.

And I might never be understood.

That was a few years ago,
before i found out they were wrong.

I get to be loved too.

But there is an element of truth to this idea,
the idea that no human can completely understand me.

Or you.

Because there is one word that applies to all of us: complex.

com-plex 

[adj. v. kuh m-pleks, kom-pleks]

2. characterized by a very complicated or involved arrangement of parts, units, etc.

3. so complicated or intricate as to be hard to understand or deal with.

"You cannot confine someone 

solely to the story that you know of them," 

my professor said.

That was in September.

I think about it all the time.

There is always more that we don't see.

That we don't quite feel.

And no matter how far I dig to find out who you are...

You have memories I've never seen,

and choices that even you can't explain.

Greensleeves.

They found the manuscript among his old things.

Written for Anne Boelyn.

Signed Sincerely, King Henry VIII.

Understand?