"Sometimes as a joke I read "(girl’s name)" as "(something funny)" I don't know why but I just realized it, I don't know why stupid little intermittent self declarations like that are so easy to not acknowledge or look past and accept as normal. That’s a weird thing. I do things like that constantly, like I make up dances to whatever I’m listening to and they’re very elaborate and theatrical but I would not ever move that way in front of people. Not as a self confidence thing but just as a presentation thing that has no bearing over my social outlook nor would it benefit me in any way, and I make up these dances all the time. Every time I listen to music alone (usually when I’m drunk/high) I think I do that sort of thing. And I don’t think it’s a secret really, maybe it makes me crazy. Is that a crazy thing? I look in the mirror and take really weird pictures of myself constantly and just consider it a thoughtless ritual of my day. Maybe living life outwardly means having intention behind all of your actions and performing constantly in a way you wouldn’t mind other people seeing. And the weirdest thing is that I’m always alone so these funny little mannerism consume my entire day.
I talk to myself, make weird noises, sing songs to myself, look at myself in the mirror and pose anyway I so desire, not even flattering poses I purposely make myself look ugly quite often. Is this the way everyone lives their lives? I’m having such an attack about these questions.
Sometimes I create dialogue with people who aren’t there and scenarios and what ifs, hypotheticals and I invest my whole mind in them for probably a longer duration of time than someone who is constantly surrounded by people and obligations. I think I’m sane and normal and I would think everyone does these things or has their own strange versions or separate actions possibly weirder than mine. How can anyone know the answer to that though? Self is such a weird thing. You have nothing else really, you are you for as long as you have on this planet and that can be different people but really there is nothing else, no family, friends, experiences, belongings, it’s just you and your thoughts. Until the day you die, and you have complete control over those two things.
That’s mildly horrifying to me. Sometimes I am so wrapped up in my own head that I look in the mirror and think “is this the body I belong to, really? This is me, this is it? Forever?" Maybe we’re all shit vessels for our souls, like bags of sand. The sand is sand whether it’s in a bag, on the beach, in your toes, or in the ocean. And maybe what the sand is, isn’t an eternal soul, but eternal energies that meld with one another and become something entirely different and our bodies and our circumstances are just the cases we come in but life is something so much more cosmic and mystical and inexplicable. We have to figure out what makes up our insides but we live in a world of outside, outside, flesh, palpable, touchable, explainable.
It’s amazing how much the case affects the substance and it’s beautiful but also it’s a block. We spend so much time, practically all of our time settling the external, assigning it names and numbers and terms and perfecting what we see and can touch. So much so that it robs us of actual time that could be spent examining the inside, and piecing together how that part of us, what you cant see (what is in a lot of ways more real than what we can) relates to the universe around us. We’re so fucking limited but so full of potential at the same time. We’re like walking, moving, tangible puzzles and so many of us can’t even acknowledge that." -Jesse
