This was written and sent to me by my Son 5 years ago and he just wanted to give me a glimpse of his thoughts. My Son Tylor, I will write about in my next blog. He has let me share one of the many amazing creations that over flow in his head. Some days I really feel like i can't relate to myself and wonder who i really am and what kinda actions it would take for such a demon to emerge but at the same time wonder if outside influences create this demon and to try to make it wake would ultimately get me killed, be it by my unpreparedness or my own dumb self. That demon voice doesn't fucking care because its trapped and I get the urge to just run and follow this demon. But I'm rational or just scared, I wonder. I wonder, if these are the roots of my problems, what can one do. I fight it as much as I can. And its easy to give into conformity, with so many of these normal appearing people around you. But its so hard to fight yourself. I know me. Why fight? Fight. Fight or flight...
I feel the mirror is a jealous friend. I'm not one to look into the mirror often,only a glance to see if my ponytail is neat but mostly I can feel it as I brush it. It's is a strange object, it's supposed to reflect the image in front of it but what I see isn't what you see, I'll look and see through my eyes and you'll see through yours, is it the image the person has in their eye or mind that showed what's in the mirror and is that image the same the person sees. I guess what I want to know is the image in the eye of who's looking at the mirror or are mirrors the exact image we see or what we want to see. Why do we use a mirror to see how we look but then turn around and ask someone how they think we look, because we see through it with our eyes and having doubts about how our eyes see things and not trusting the image in the mirror (what our mind's eye see) we need to know another person sees the same. I hate trying out clothes at stores , nothing...
It had rained all through the night but ceased by morning when I had left for my days adventure. The sky was gray and the ground was wet. I made my way to the bus stop with haste and was promptly met by the bus as I was running late. I boarded, swiping my pass. I was greeted by the operator, a very friendly middle aged black woman. I thanked her and quickly found a seat towards the back, right above the steps. After a few moments and bus stops later a young black mixed man in his 20s boards the bus. As he swiped his bus pass he was greeted by the friendly bus operator and she had inquired about his shirt. "Oh, who's that on your shirt?" She asked. "Oh, well... I know one of the dudes is Billy idol." He replied. "Oh really? What kind of music did they play? Big band music?" "No they were like, classic rock." Their encounter had ended and the man starts his way down the bus towards me and out of curiosity I looked at his shirt. I can cle...
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