I frown upon my third attempt to write something without sounding ridiculous and completely off tune with the world. I reread my initial thoughts and think to myself:”God im full of myself.” I erase those lines in hopes of sounding more humble, a little less intense, and somehow more agreeable.
It is unbelievably difficult to find my voice without any music playing while I write, it’s as though the silence muffles my thoughts; they cower and hide because they are not humble, they are eccentric and they are disappointing. So I push myself and I pick at my obscure attempt to reveal my true self to this page. I need to unravel somewhere, and this crest white glistening screen is enticing to say the least.
I may be picking up the pace and finding my flow but I am letters away from shutting down completely. Too many layers keeping my fears dormant and not enough layers to keep my skin warm. This is how it goes, sometimes we gotta choose, lying to ourselves and staying comfortable in the chill, or revealing our insides to the eye and basking in the warmth of its fire.
I may be different, but I could just as well be similar. I do feel like an outlier almost every day, but maybe everybody does too. I do have explosions of emotion occurring just beneath the surface, but I just as well, may not be the only one getting burned. I may be the only me, and the rest are a bunch of you. But I could just as well be another you to somone just as odd as me. Go figure!
I make believe and I pretend to live in a world just for me. I pick it’s heroes and I love it’s villains. Perhaps the time has come for me to realize,that I am part hero and part villain with little control over both.