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Five minutes ago I sat down to write my life story.
Only, it wasn't five minutes ago and it wasn't my life. It is the life of the woman who wears my skin. She's sort of a bitch, distant and mean.
She closes herself off and shuts others out. She makes up stories in her head, and the people in her brain never act the way she wants them to.
She never acts the way she wants to. She doesn't know how, and watching her try to learn is like watching a small child try to turn a screw with a hammer.
4 comments:
I think we all have that stanger inside. I know I do.
I wonder if you have any idea how others see you. because when you come up with stuff like this I think you are brilliant.
Gin- I'm sure you're right, and it's sort of relieving to know it.
Cat- thank you, I love the nice things you say to me!
Humanity is an wool shirt thats just too fucking tight. Im sure when I die and assimilate back into the collective spirit of the Great and Powerful Oz I will understand just how unnatural it was for me to be stuck in that human form with that horrible ego that is born in and out of fear which cuts me off even from myself and certainly the other struggling spiritual beings having the human experience. Wow I wish I could hug somebody right now. But my ego and their ego aint have'n it.
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