July 7, 2017
This is something I would call my best friend for, something I could call my boyfriend to talk out, if I had one. This is something I’d vent to my brother about, or to a counselor or to confess to an unseen power watching over me, or to a friend thousands of miles away who has no other connection to otherwise make of it. This is something I’d personify in my alternate reality, a mind encapsulated within the pages of an unfinished, fictionalized autobiograhy.
But I’ve long grown past that.
I’ve become too independent about these things to the point where I’ve lost the profound relationships I ever had with anyone. No one knows anyone else in my life. No one knows what is going through my heart and my contorted mind. No one knows the true story of why I’m doing what I do, where my heading is, what my intentions are, whether self-empowering or self-destructive.
Some may consider it weakness, some would call it fear of judgment.
I simply do it because, well…