Human Whisperer

Sometimes I feel like the characters in the TV series “3rd Rock from the Sun“: I’m looking kind of human, but I have great difficulties understanding all those humanoid creatures around me.
Why do (figurative speaking) so many people choose a colour of their life that matches their eyes when they cry?
Why do they buy houses with lots of windows, they are afraid looking out of – and afraid anyone else looking in?
Why do people run so fast to catch up with themselves, when all it takes is to slow down, so their soul can catch up with them?
Being sort of human myself, most of the time I haven’t got a clue why I do what I do – or don’t do. Why am I just as blind as anyone else of the fact that there’s always a choice? Why do we think we’re stuck, when there’s always another path to follow?