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Every
time I turned around in my City, I bumped into some new piece of myself.
Oops,
there went Saint Joan, Savior of the World. Someday, they'll know
and love me. Ah, there goes Mouse Woman, the one who's afraid of her
own shadow. Oh, there you are, you old Devil, the one who constantly
carps and criticizes everything and everyone. I'm really sick of you!
Then there's Robot Woman, who puts her head down and follows the latest
series of tasks she has set for herself. No looking up now. And let
us not forget Whiny One, who can't figure out why things have to be
so hard all the time.
Well,
I guess you get the picture. A bit like one of Picasso's more
deconstructed masterpieces. An eye here, a nose there. A bit of a
jumble it seems to me right now. I'm not nearly as calm about this
as I sound. I'm really in a state of panic over this fragmentation.
I can't find anything to hold onto. These pieces just keep jumping
around and slipping past me. I have no self to cling to, no one to
use in social situations when I need a role to play, a persona to
be. None of these identities is adequate for the occasion.
Perhaps
they all seem so negative because they're so incomplete in themselves.
They
need something more to give them life. They need to come together.
And they need a bigger perspective. A little joie de vivre is most
definitely in order.
My
body has been feeling like a vise for some time now. Too
small. It hurts and I've wanted to break out of it and soar,
but now it's not just my body I'm wanting to break free
of. It's me.
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