What do you say here?
I don’t know. I don’t know if I know much about me at all. Depending on which “me” is in charge, I know different things at different times. I suppose they’re all true, in their own way.
Which means that I am lost and scared, and unlovable. I have no future. I live in apathetic hiding, guarding my life which has no direction and no purpose.
I am also very happy. Full of life and laughter and madcap spontaneous song and dance routines in unlikely places. My best friend is a mirror. The moon is my mentor and my feet are bare. I laugh when i drop things or stub my toe, and I swear and cry and hate the world when the loaf of bread is twenty inches away from where I thought it was going to be. I think moving house is a grand adventure and going to the grocery shop is terrifying. I want to change the world and I want to die. I am whole and good, and I am inexplicably, irretrievably broken. I want to dance with my children in a big kitchen full of fresh laughter and vegetables. I want to stay in bed forever, until I starve and it doesn’t matter anymore that i can’t communicate.
I dream of blood and hate and death in horrifying detail, and I stare at flowers for infinite moments marvelling at the unjustifiable beauty of the world. I love deeply and I am immensely attached, unconditionally, to beautiful, amazing people that I can’t handle being around in person. I am lonely and awed and in love with my world. Magic is everywhere but I am blinded by panic.
So there you go. A slice of me. It’s all true.
And that’s actually far more than I’d like you to know. But conversely, I ALSO want to share and be authentic and open. It’s a dilemma all right. I think actually I am the poster child of ambivalence.