Know thy Self
We are all comprised of more than one. Maybe there are at least two. An existential duality, if you will. The North and the South that comprise your intrinsic civil conflict.
One of you embodies the facets that you don’t share. That’s you, that’s your Self. The rawest, truest form of you. It can be part of the face you show the world, but not always.
In fact, do you ever feel like it’s sitting back and watching you act? Observing you behave true to yourself? Or perhaps gazing in anger as you perform?
I feel her perched upstairs in my skull. Floating cinematically in my brain. Behind my eyeballs. She’s the curly haired little girl that I once was, but also the wise elderly woman that I’ll become. Eyes still the indistinguishable shade they always were, for many things will change in this life, but never the medium through which she watches me.
She has trouble coexisting with the foolish one who makes mistakes. Who overlooks. Who jumps to conclusions. Who speaks too soon. Who lashes out. Who makes tell-tale faces. She was never good at sharing with the other kids.
She has trouble when the other one pushes her away. Stifles her, with the unforgiving click of a steel lock. Though away, she’s never gone. She waits patiently, though, recording from her little box with a notebook and a pen.
She has trouble when the other one puts the two of them in front of the mirror in the bathroom. She doesn’t like smiling when others frown.
She has trouble understanding the concept of thinking one way and acting another. She is learning though, that all of us commit logical fallacies.
She is not a physical mass measured in pounds. She is not a resumé. She is not an experience.
She is not to be touched.
She will not be touched.