I am alone in my thoughts.
No one is here.
Such solitude, such despair.
No one to share my flawless calculations.
No one to discuss the odds of a possible outcome.
No one to find contentment in my logic.
It is foreign to them.
They do not understand.
Nor do they want too.
Being alone, I know what it is like.
You are minute, small, inconsequential.
The others partake in their joyous exuberance.
But you are excluded from their celebration.
For why would they want you there?
You are not like them, even though you share their lineage.
You are different, devil like, cold, unfeeling.
Being alone, yes, I know what it is like.
"Mr. Spock, would you like to play a game of chess after your shift?"
"I am looking forward to winning this time. You've won way too many lately."
"I am glad Spock that you play a game us Humans play. Bones is not very good at it, but you are a worthy opponent. Just to let you know Spock, it makes me feel less alone, when you play with me. I appreciate that. Thanks."
"Your are welcome, Captain."
"The name is Jim, Spock. All my friends call me Jim."
"Thank you, Jim."
Being alone, he also knows what it is like.