Stream of Consciousness 1.
Baring my brain in a stream of consiousness brings forth absolute terror in my body. I don't do this, I keep saying to myself. Debating whether or not I'll actually hit the publish button. A mind is a very personal thing to me. I've always held fast to the belief that if I gave away too much of myself there'd be nothing left for me to enjoy. I care too much about what others think to tell them about the dark ghouls that live inside my skull. They see me as some generous, sweet, naive, girl. Thats how everyone sees me because thats the image I've chosen to portay. And maybe there is some part of me that is that benevolent, innocent girl. But I know that there is a huge side of me that stays hidden except in moments where she refuses to be kept silent, moments where she has had enough of the deep indentation of footprints upon our back. Sometimes I think I am crazy, because of the duality that inhabits me. But then I think about that quote I sometimes come across. The one about the three sides to every person? The one about how there is the way the world sees you, there is how you see you, and then there is how you really are? It goes something like that. But in my opinion there is so much more of people than three simple sides. How can you contain infinity in only three categories? I agree, most of the people in the world probably see me the same way. I think they see me as innocent and naive because thats the image I foster. However, maybe they don't see me that way at all. Maybe there are two parts to this category. How the world actually sees me and how I think the world sees me. Theres no way I can delve into each persons mind and pluck the image of me out their brains, right? However, on the subject of what I think of myself...well I think a lot about myself. I am human, after all. Sometimes I am amazing in my own eyes but most of the time I'm the scum of the earth. Sometimes I am some unique creature and other times I am just one tiny fragment, meaningless in comparison to the rest of the world. Then who am I actually? Some strange hodgepodge of all of these differing images?