Am I the person that everyone sees?
Does everyone see who I think they see?
Obsessive introspection mutates my real demeanor. I spend so much time making myself into who I tell people I am, into who people assume I am, into who I assume people assume I am. I’m not sure who I am.
I remember being a child, when the grass was green on both sides, when snow meant snowmen, when adults really had all the answers, and I didn’t care to know anything else. Now I’m swept up in self-acceptance, self-destruction, and self-everything-else-I’m-told-I-have-to-worry-about.
At least what’s come of developing an introspective habit is that I’ve developed the answer to introspective habits. Next time I throw up words like these and have a mental boxing match with my demons I’ll just put my finger on the laptop touchpad, drag the mouse to the “next” button on iTunes, and click until… I lose my train of thought. Damn, I like Arcade Fire.