i look at myself - from the outside almost , it seems.
i find flaws - many of them. infact, hardly anything i see is right. i give up on myself so many times. i dont know what keeps me going. i dont even know wether i want to keep going.
then there is a puff of smoke - and i no longer see myself. things become blurry -- the clarity becomes tinged with imperfection. i no longer see the harsh lines that i had disliked -- everything becomes matted, with grease , flith almost. but i seem prettier, less imperfect to myself. my vision is flawed - for it can no longer see the reality. it can no longer distinguish the right shape and the right size - i start appropriating what could be , with what i can see. i bloom ..while i appropriate - into a fuller, better, happier person.
is that why i pick the pastels when i look at colours ? is that why i detest sharp angles and lines ?
do we all just simply need a curve -- not to live straight honest rigid lives, but a simple honest accepting one ? one where, we can no longer see quite clearly, but imagine things to be what they can be ?
its a question - a soft hushed murmur almost - its a lie - its deception -- but , it promotes inception... of an idea of what i might just be. and someting so fecund , can never be wrong. can never be a lie.can never be ugly.
it must be beautiful - i dont really know, but i imagine it to be.