I don’t really understand what I’m feeling recently. I feel like my life is a caricature of itself. All of my most perceived traits conflated and expanded using the ink of judgement and comparison’s pen. I can feel my outlines being traced by the same eyes that trace yours. With a stare that’s quick and to the point. A point that exposes your embellishments and differences from the standard perfect tracing and profits on screaming them out as loud as possible. But, who’s eyes do these belong to? Because I don’t give a shit if I’m different than you. And your differences are what make this life worth living to me. So, who’s looking at me? Who’s breath is on my shoulder? Softly searing perceptions across my neck with a cold hard whisper. It makes me feel like I need a shower. A deep body scrub from the Korean Spa. Make me new, but don’t take what’s ME away. Tear these so called blemishes from my skin and make the viewer think I’m clean. Who the fuck is the viewer? I’m not looking at anyone and judging them? Are there really people out there judging me and I’m just now becoming able to feel and comprehend it for the first time? Man, fuck that that’s stupid. I’m going to shift my care back inwards toward myself. Because no matter who I am or who I become, my intentions are good. I wish nothing but the best for everyone lucky and unlucky enough to experience this mode of life. It is amazing to be able to feel. To be able to know the balance between good luck and bad luck. To feel the dark echos that bounce across your stomach when someone doesn’t love you back. The infinite additions of chorus members when someone does. To appreciate the vast chime of bells you have to understand the silence in between. I like when I’m silent. And I like when I talk so much that I can feel consonants and vowels waterfall out of my face.

Fuck caricatures. Fuck saying my attributes are from somewhere other than me. I choose me. No one else has ever had the power to make me who I am. So why start giving that power away now? That’s for people who question the wind before letting it take them away.

I don’t question the wind. I am the wind. And so are you. I trust myself. And I trust you.

You’re just dumb if you do caricatures. Stop judging people and making money off it.