Do I feel different?
Have i changed?
Does every thing, and every one seem different? aliens to me as I might appear to them?
Has home morphed into a space ball with not any preserved for me?
What do I see; what do they see: who am I: who are they: what is this?????
looking at my life with stranger’s eyes now; deafly listening in to my own conversations?
my answer to all the above:
everything feels exactly the same.
I still stick out.
I still don’t fit in. I am still not among the ‘perfect average’.
My bed is still un-made
My hair a spring roll of comfort; undone, unkempt
My eyes tear in sadness at moments of happiness
I still get all of my genuine laughs from Jason (6) ad Zoe (4)
love and lust still play out in my face, dodging, unbothered, unattached
nothing’s changed; it’s like going back to high school
now, back to saving links i need to put together.