I asked myself to tell me a story. Once upon a time, I said, I told you a story about you. You did not believe me and asked, how can the story be about me, if i wasn’t there? Because you were there, I replied, only that you were pretending to be asleep, and so, you were. Ah yes, I know this story, I remembered, I just have to ask myself to tell it, so I don’t forget.
Avoiding
I go through great lengths to avoid getting to know you. Yet there you are, unequivocally yourself, and I keep choosing not to see you. Why? You ask. Fear, I respond. Fear that if I truly saw you, after all this time, I would hate what I see and hate myself for it.
Russian Doll
Picture a Russian doll with tens of smaller dolls each one inside the other. Now picture an elevator going exactly through the middle top to bottom. This is how I picture my inner self. The exterior is there for anyone to see, but inside, the elevator doors open only on some floors for some people.…
The Dulus Nest 