So, what do you do?
Who wants to know?
it’s like asking air to discuss the effects of the wind
mostly because me and my description of myself have a lot of baggage
we’re in a co-dependent situation
each blaming the other for either saying too much or too little
leaving out the good bits or leaving them in
I just want to be seen
and then I want to actually feel good about being seen
keep my gaze off myself long enough to see them seeing me
but it’s hard cause my ego likes me to be on the icy ledge of ‘comedic’ self
deprecation
somewhere between self hatred and ‘I woke up like this (flawless).’
I think this is why I write stories. Why I act. Sing Songs and colour.
To take the light off me for a hot second.
Lasso my attention onto something other than my image.
If I’m lucky, it’ll get pulled so tightly that I’ll connect to the other Me.
The one with all the good ideas.
Those transcendent ones.
That’s all I want.
