Dear Reader

If you have read multiple entries in this blog, you might be able decipher certain themes that run through my concerns. I admit that perhaps these are the things that capture my attention, some of them are paramount needs, some might be ancillary distractions. However I suspect many of these distractions underscore even bigger needs if you view it in abstraction, and these are the meanings behind reality. Writing in a different voice or another persona may be seen as some as whimsical and serving no practical purpose, but these eyes that do so only view life and circumstances superficially on the surface. They most likely overlook myself as a whole individual that operates kaleidescopically.

If you have concerns that relate to the questionable nature of my decisions and intentions, this is not any cause for alarm. Even if they demonstrate themselves to be irrational, these are rationally pre-empted, which could say something about my personality. I assure you that every single step is calculated and prepared for. Every move to a dangerous trench in battle is planned but anticipated. In war, victory is not remembered by the journey took but the final step.

Sheep's Clothing

My favorite shade of dressing is black but I forced myself to turn to white. These white clothes of mine are a hassle. Not only do I have to look nice in them but I can't seem to have fun in them. Unlike black clothes when the lack of support was not visible, white clothes reveal what you lack. And no matter how careful I am, the clean look of it ends up with stains. Stains are never a problem with black clothes, they exist but no one can see them, now
each additional product from an agent is a painful scrutiny, it makes me tired to hide them or wash them away. The stains keep on coming back at the same spots, wash after wash.

The spots used to be products of chance and accidents, but increasingly I have been a culprit to taint them myself.

I am not permitted to spill anything, but I like it and know its very fun. The very problem is, that people can see what went on it and critique at it. I miss the anonymity of black where no one would know what I did to it or where I went.

Now the whites are too delicate to withstand the next bleach, perhaps I should switch to black instead. These white clothes might not even belong to me. I own a another black dress somewhere.

Who is talking now

Missy for the first time you allowed me the chance to be uncovered. When you met Mr the other night, and he held your hand, I felt for the first time that my systoles and diastoles stopped momentarily. Please let me tell you that this condition has never occurred to me. I know that my twin, who works on the basis of logic and critical reasoning, has been telling you to withdraw from Mr at all costs. She has hurt Mr and told you execute actions that are at the expense of my happiness. Missy, you pay more attention to her than me. In fact you constantly ignore me. I understand that my twin might give advice to you similar to that of most people, which is probably why you listen to her, and turn away from Mr. But look, who is to tell you how to love and live other than yourself. So Missy, please, do give me a chance to lead the way for you, for once. Tear down the armor that you dress me with. Let me appear naked in front of Mr, and maybe for once, he might show me what you and I have been missing out on.