I love beaches. The vastness of the ocean before me acts as a reflection within me. Somehow looking out to the curved edge of the world lets me feel the same depth within me. I can imagine that I would shed a tear looking out over that right now. I like being afraid of small things. I don’t like being afraid of hurting people, or of being hurt by people.
I like to think about other people. I can tell you a total stranger’s entire life story. I’ll look at them, and in their face I will see their childhood, their pains, the lives and deaths they’ve witnessed. Sometime I can see them dying years later, and it’s like watching a flower wilt. I may be right, I may be wrong, I may get bits and pieces right or wrong, but I get a feeling. So why am I afraid to look inside myself? Why does it hurt to ask myself why I do things? What drives me? What keeps me in the same place? What makes me cry when I’m sad, or cry out when I experience great joy?
Sometimes I wonder if I’m the type of person I wanted to be. In a lot of ways I am. What I’m not, mostly I’m on the right track for. But there are some things that just make me feel like I’m not what I wanted to be. Maybe I didn’t know what I wanted to be; maybe I just had a dream. But aren’t dreams one of the most powerful messengers of the psyche.
I like cheese.
wow
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