Unit. A measure. It’s precise and sure. A known fact.
Then there’s another type of unit, a human ‘unit’. That unit is not definite, predictable or sure, it’s spontaneous, sometimes out of control, perhaps even a little crazy.
If someone’s a unit it’s often a negative term. But it can also mean unique, difficult to describe or put into a box. That’s my sort of unit.
I have many ‘units’ in my life, I attract them, collect them, store them on a shelf and bring them out to observe. They’re complex personalities, mysteries, empaths and real souls. They surround me, sometimes sending me into a spin, adding colour to my life while muddying my already muddy waters. I take them on, intrinsically I need to help, often to my own detriment, but there’s always a rainbow.
But that’s life isn’t it? People. Units.