Incapacitation.

I don't understand you, but at the same time, I don't think I'm meant to.
I don't understand why you are the way you are.
Every day, I watch you do the opposite of whatever I expect you to do, situational irony incarnate. I watch your mood swings in a state of perpetual surprise: your outrageous bursts of laughter contrasting your sullen fits of vindictive sarcasm. This observation's like nothing I've ever tried before--all I can do is wonder just what in this world you are thinking, because it's apparent that we are entirely opposite--I would never say anything like that, not in a million years.
You're absolutely invulnerable.

This year (for the first time), I've been met with things I just can't understand.
It's a feeling that's totally new to me, and I'm just learning how to deal with it.
Heart of Darkness blew my mind. I could not for the life of me comprehend that there was a piece of literature like this out there--a book I could read over and over again and never fully grasp. I was absolutely appalled that no one had ever shown me anything like it before--that I'd been left in the dark for so long. The meaning came to me in bits and pieces, as a glow emerges from a haze, and I triumphed over every tiny connection I found myself able to make. Never in my life have I spent so much time with one text before--honestly, I must have read it five times, cover to cover, making extensive notes, writing in every margin and drawing crazy arrows to and from matching quotes.

Congratulations. You're the same way.
Quite honestly, I cannot figure you out.
I am physically incapable of your analysis, and this is absolutely new for me.
I've been rendered to a state of total incapacitation. Me, of all people.
And you-- you just ARE.