Once (or all the time), when I was a teenager...
November 03, 2012 @ 8:52 p.m.
       I use to ponder about the nature of man. Not the actions, but the inside that nobody sees. The soul, I suppose. The subconscious, maybe. I use to wonder whether it was a who or a what.
       Or an it.
       Was I a mirror?
       Or a multi-faceted stone? One that would orient its face to match the environment/person/circumstance/etc.
       Was there a me? Or was I merely a reflection?
       Was I in control?
       Or was there some...other?

       Because I used to feel, and still do, that I was an amorphous shape. Liquid and insubstantial. And I use to wish, not anymore, that I were like those fictional characters in so many books. So... defined. So stable. So constant and solid in everything they do. In everything they think and say and are. Even in their changes, they are dependable. Two dimensional? And I, with a seemingly infinite amount of dimensions, am everything but dependable.

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