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Read my mind.

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If you could reach into my mind, experience my memories, know what I feel and how I think, I have no idea what would become of us.

You would feel my freedom, my relentless lack of burden, my sense of carelessness that seems to be so central to my life. You would see through my eyes, how I think this world works, what I know from observation, what I assume from speculation. I see things in a way indescribable, and while I try feebly to depict what the experience would be like, how you would be shown to understand my mind, I know that the only way to show it to you is this ludicrous, ridiculous, daft idea of sharing thoughts.

I don’t even know why I would entertain the thought. There are so many things I wish to be kept hidden, so many regrets, so many mistakes, so many things that are forced upon me by every possible enforcer.

For now I will dismiss my own criticism, and attempt to give a glimpse of my soul, however vain the attempt may be.
If you could peer into my mind…

You would see my indifference. How I have learned over the years to put aside most troubles, and force them to be minute in importance. How I have, in the best possible way, stopped caring about the daily insignificant problems that so readily present themselves to the average person. These things once took away large parts of my life, and I am no longer willing to allow such pain and agony for such trivial nonsense.

You would see my helplessness in the face of things larger than me. How in the presence of politics, religion, discrimination of any possible thing, I have taught myself to remain unfazed by insult or injury. I will often do little more that express my opinion, for an argument over it is all too often futile.

You would see my attempted resistance of my own lust. How I am less and less routinely beaten by the driving forces of my own body. How I am can no longer be controlled by a woman’s stare. How it is more and more difficult for any woman to use her body to persuade me. But you would also see how I am consistently humbled by the forces of my own nature. How I am driven to decisions and acts I would normally oppose, and that I am morally against.

You would see my past experiences with depression. How I had battled myself for control of my own person day and night without end. How my soul was ripped apart until I had no choice but to examine the pieces. How these months changed my views of the Earth around us, of God, of people, of life. How I still carry some level of contempt towards those who caused this scar on my past. How I belittle everything that had happened, and ridicule myself for what I did so long ago.

You would see my confusion. How I still don’t grasp this thing we call life. How I expect I never will. How I am unsure of how to act, what decisions to make, and why I should even attempt them. How I characteristically cannot explain a feeling deep in my heart, or a thought from the most complex parts of my mind. How I fail to communicate to another person in a simple conversation. How I grew to enjoy silent company nearly as much as I enjoy a deep conversation.

You would see my distraction. How I am unable to stay focused on anything that cannot capture and restrain my eyes’ and ears’ full attention from the very beginning. How I forget things of great importance as if they were completely inconsequential. How I am often bemused by the slightest things in favor of something completely irrelevant. How I can find myself lost in a topic long since the rest of the people around me have moved on.

You would see a great many things. You would see more than any other would ever know of me, things that I may keep with me till I am in the bowls of the Earth or spread across the ocean, secrets so deep that I cannot bear to reveal them. Or maybe I’m exaggerating a worn topic; making large of what should be small. Maybe you would find a simple person. Maybe I just don’t know what you would find.




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