A Message from Someone (5)
To begin with. To begin with, to begin with, to begin with. Let’s begin with basic premises.
What am “I”?
To begin with?
Even if I asked you, I doubt you would have a good answer. I’m not even sure I do, so there’s no good reason for you to. Or wait, do I have it all backward? Do you understand what “I” am better than I do? It’s certainly possible.
After all, the world is full of stories about “me,” every one of them dressed up with pomp and flair.
It’s as though my own life were a fairy tale.
A beautiful myth, adorned with a gorgeous bouquet of lies.
How utterly absurd. How completely obnoxious.
I don’t want to be glorified, I have no desire to be revered or worshipped, and I certainly don’t think you should put your faith in me. After all, what good will your prayers do? I have no way to reply and wouldn’t have anything to say even if I did.
In short, what I’m trying to say is this.
Fuck off.
Why should you people get to erase the fact that I was myself?
Why should I let the sin I shouldered get stolen and painted over with pretty words?
But you see, this is where I stop being so sure of myself. Are these thoughts simply the product of madness? Or would someone of sound mind have arrived at them as well?
In truth, I don’t much care either way. There’s just… There’s this acute feeling I have in the bottom of my heart.
Why was it me?
Why wasn’t it you?
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