Picket Fences

Saturday, October 01, 2005

confessions of a schizoid-1


This time I did not spell confessions wrong…since this is about confessions I might as well confess that.
To begin with I do not know when this happened, how and where?I am clueless about years of self solitary confinement; I think it must have started with my birth…I am sure that when I was hauled outside and placed in a pretty bonnet …I opened my eyes in marvel…why was I there in the first place, I saw those preening faces ... large eyes looking down at me and my gender…with a numb curiosity, they knew I was another addition to their world…
To confess is human, but how do I confess thirty seven years…and almost 11months and 29 days?I said, I don’t know when I recoiled in to having my own little personal conversations with self, it is always like two angels sat on my shoulders while demons were at work in my brain… it’s like having three lanes on a highway...the fastest being the express lane…The angels sat and sang hymns while demons planned the speed…my body was a car which had eight cylinders…

Between the angels and demons were my experiments with truth…my thoughts inside thoughts…which one was real? Was I being born and looking at those faces or experiencing it as someone else out side … was I happy or sad or indifferent or dwarfed by the event of birth?
Names…why someone would accept those names that are now part of your being…its like names grow on you, you become like them…sure you never chose your gender nor your names, none of us knew what we would be named after…If we knew I am sure most of us would want to be called for better…we would name ourselves according to the situations, optimism and wealth. It’s as unpredictable as living itself, to have names that are not actually chosen by you.
So, I was named after a person with great pious intentions and cause…I was whispered in hushed tones about my existence and worth of living by that name …it was about an Identity…I am who I would become...they hoped..

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