Starting to see more of something or other that what is often perceived is a lie we’ve told ourselves and believed. À la the persona vs. the true self under the ego. For what purpose does one play at being a person. And in how many ways does one pretend to have one’s own traits such that the ones manifested are like lesser copies of much greater things? To fulfill a role within a context. When or if there is in actuality no context at all. Does it cause you to wonder? Who am I right now? And who am I pretending to be? And have I mistaken this mask for my face? Or my face for my identity? What shape does a soul take? I want to be restored. I go around in cycles, wanting to be restored again. Maybe I ought to want to be changed. “First thought wrong.” Break this circle, please. I could never understand. I complained that no one ever explained it to me when all along I was the only one who could explain it to me. My back hurts and my neck aches. I have been sitting with bad posture for far too long. Good posture makes me a little more mindful of the fact I’m composing myself in the moment without even necessarily realizing it. It sort of takes hold in its own way. Free writing uncovers active imagination at play the subconscious mind one step closer to the truer self, but only when written truly free and unjudged and unprepared. I suppose. Spirit shed my mortal frame. Did you merely pretend? For how long? ¶ If I could in any way will not to become a thing, was it then myself I denied in trying to say I was somebody or something doing right? How on earth are your veins? To reconcile with whomever I though I was the long subterfuge by way of play, I offer now my honest mark my mind and heart my everything. Potential or otherwise. Let me change.