They’ll be ok even if they hurt

first word that you see is what you think you may need most.

After an emotionally bright happy display I still pump my brakes, reverse over the exuberients in my mind to challenge the propriety of my gleeful expression. I attempt to access my display by doing the impossible:  thinking I can inhabit the pov of those that gaze I derisively gaze upon myself with presumptions composing what I think is the gazers lense. That lense is actually the Critic’s dissonant ingression. It lives in the morrow of my bones. Self deprication is still self centeredness. I’ll be ok and so will my presumptions may they dwindle in ignominy.

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