I reigned in my fantasies so far as to have smothered even my hopes. I've got to be a boy again; I've got to be present in my own moment.
It fails to register that other people's lives continue in my absence.
My judgment shall be my point of view - it is the idol that I have in doubt erected separate from the truth, to verify the truth of the truth. "Original sin," "knowledge of good and evil" - I am Thomas's dubious fingers. Easier to thread a camel through the eye of a needle... I've convinced myself that this is balanced - it was easy, because it makes sense as I see it; the only contest offered is that of the appallingly apparently convoluted, mutated standard hailed as "normalcy." Of course, from within its bounds, it's something different.
So, I was going into my martyr mindset over the trifling struggle I encountered while digging for my phone charger; then, I realized that, immediately before that, I had been planning on firing up some porn... My capacity for rapidly changing, agile, precisely detailed delusions astounds me - I created and sustain what I call "reality."
A statement with balanced potential to convey a thing profound or one mundane, "me, too."
I don't allow myself to acknowledge my weakness. Whether or not that's true, it's a reassuring thing to say. The Earth is my Kryptonite. This author is Clark Kent.
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