Jennifer.
Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.
It ceases to amaze me how my mother can simultaneously undermine my recovery (that’s too much sugar, don’t you think? I mean your skin…) and then have the audacity tell me its my fault (well, most people would appreciate my advice, you know, one day you might). I need to move out —now.
Posted: Sunday March 11th with 1 note
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porcelaindream posted this
