I never thought I'd be the type of person to care. The world shattered for me early on. I wasn't safe, protected or sheltered. That's how I learned to be reckless. It didn't matter. He was on the other side of the world and she was suicidal. I couldn't bear the weight, so I learned to simply stop caring. I retreated inside, built up walls and a persona. Locked up in solitary confinement forever. As I grew and sexually matured, I was torn up about my isolation. I wanted to connect but didn't want to give anything away. My persona grew with my need for intoxicating escapes. But always careful to leave up those walls. Only revealing the shadow of my soul to others. Life didn't matter, death didn't matter-there was no difference-I was already dead. At the age of eleven I had accepted the lonely demise that would be my life. Certain there would never be anyone who could understand my inner workings. I had not been designed as most. It was a drug-overdose, countless empty sexual encounters and eleven more years of self-destruction until I finally found a group of people that understood my language. However I was still bound by my shackles behind my walls. Unable to come out or allow anyone in. Instead I offered out a diagram-the blue prints of my words-there was a response of semi-comprehension. But I remained a prisoner of my persona-I had forgotten how to be me. But now is the collision of all times and all versions of me. I have been reborn of my death. I know there are others cut from the same cloth. They see my shadow and know my walls and know it is a philosophy trick. And now my carelessness has been stifled-like a flame that has run out of air. My cloth cutout is finally free to move and be aware.


  1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6KVHMU3gb8&feature=related

  2. I do not know who posted that link, but what a perfect response!!!!