People are scattered around to world. Sometimes there is no single explanation why they live the way they do. Sometimes there is more than it seems in their behaviours. Helpless and wounded most of the time. Still trying to breathe another day. So many efforts for so unlogical causes and yet there is so much misery unsolved. They tend to believe they are unique but all those books classify them under foreseen categories and indeed the traits all fit each of those types. Sometimes it is better not to think. Sometimes it is just better to be just an aimless soul. Like a plastic bag dancing through the wind , controlled by the wind.