I sat alone in my favorite coffee shop, watching the bubbles form in my frozen hot cocoa + 1 shot while contemplating why I feel such a need to be different. Is it a desire to be seen? Heard? Simply listened to or noticed? All of the sudden I realize all of this is simply the perspiration of my soul. Not the smelly, nervous kind, the kind when you exercise. It's like truth evolves when I work out the kinks of my brain.
There is often a persistant thought in my mind-, "What in the hell is wrong with me?" But maybe what I see as wrong maybe isn't that at all... Maybe my flaws make me who I am. Not my qualities or features or skills, but what I really can't do. What i mess up and what I misjudge. Maybe my mistakes make me much more interesting than the average joe.
Maybe I'm still an idiot.
-A
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This is a good post. Maybe it's the "maybes" and the "ifs" and the eventual outcomes of them that make us who we are.
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