And instead of telling the truth,
You reel off a list of things you think they want to hear,
Because it's easier that way,
And so they treat you like this completely different person,Because all they know about you is misinformation,
And you gradually detatch yourself from all your actions" Reuben - Blamethrower
Trying not to sound like a redundant orange advert here. But it is other people that make me. I am constructed almost entirely of small bits of other people. A collage ripped from the newspapers of other people lives. And that can make me feel like there are no small bits of "me" left showing through. (My ability to say "other people" too much here is probably from some other people)
I am walks to groby at midnight and rambling phone conversations and my favourite page in that book I never gave back.
I might even be looking at this the wrong way. Maybe those bits become mine as soon as I adopt them, so they are "me"?. Maybe nothing is original, everything is just a different combination of everything else? Maybe I should just stop being so damn submissive. Maybe this is far too complicated for me to even comprehend.
Maybe thats why I really enjoy being things that i'm not. (And saying maybe too much)
I like to dress up. I like to assume an alternative identity. Being someone else makes me feel different... obviously. But it's that escape that I always seem to need.EDIT-16th April 2010 : Scrap this. I need an update. Turns out my things are my things, and other people can be less than you expected from them.
"And when the son meets the father
It'll be something smarter for the pain
But you will always be the same
You will always be the same"
