quarta-feira, 11 de março de 2009

unimaginable bruises

It's an immutable subset of paranoia, my writing that is, I used to suffer from a inexplicable fear of having other people talking and laughing about me, the strangest thing, I could talk to an audience but I wouldn't last for a second in a bus stop near a single person, I would randomly think that I was revealing some sort of weird smile, that my face could explode, that one of my earlobes was bigger than the other, it became a sort of obsessive compulsive disorder in the form of scratching my eyebrows or my wrists repeatedly, dark sun glasses solved the whole thing, it appears that I developed some kind of sensitivity to direct sunlight exposure and fluorescent light bulbs, the paranoia stopped, unfortunately it turned into apathy and indifference toward others, nowadays I do look back and realize that I was a goddamn narcissist which would disrespect everyone else with a full blown inconsideration, with no special care for feelings or insecurity, I still do that a lot and I know that I'm not perfect in any way possible, everything I write is the past, present and future all combined, it's an arrangement of visual data captured while I'm awake, even a injured little spider becomes an inspiration and a path to represent my ideas, I need to express every single one of those while they keep coming, I share because even if no one likes it, it still gets viewed, instead of keeping it to myself, I have no intentions of becoming a writer or publish a novel, I just don't care...

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