The will of my ego knows no bound!
It’s a tough ask, Jane. It’s a tough ask to watch your thoughts, clean the trash inside, and solve the cluttered jumble inside the head.
You see, Jane, I have a deep ego. It runs deeper than all of the ancient emotions and feels I’ve got hidden, shoved, concealed right here inside me, somewhere. You know this already, don’t you, Jane?
This ego eats me, engulfs me, and then stands there, enamoured by the sight of its own triumph.
If I hadn’t learned to ignore most of it, at least some of the time, these walls would be painted with the inside of my brain.
Yes, over the years, I’ve learned to ignore and disregard a lot of it, but it’s still me, Jane. I am my own ego and if this ego ever becomes obsessed with something, there’s no way I am getting out of that situation.
But you must know this, Jane. We are quite similar. Nobody else would get it, but you will.
Spiritually speaking, there’s nothing in this world that controls me, Jane. I
’ve made it my mission, my singular aim, to break all barriers, taboos, or connections. No matter how dear, how darling it is to me, I kill it.
And I’ve suffered because of it, Jane. I’ve suffered dearly, I’ve paid for it, and yet, I continue to do so. Now, more than ever. Because, how can I stop this, Jane? I can’t!
For my ego demands of it, the stubborn in me demands of it, the intense psycho in me demands of it, and no one seems to understand this, but, I’m my ego. I’m my own fucking ego. Don’t they get it, Jane? Can’t these people, these monotonous, slow, boring people understand that?
I and my ego, we are one, Jane! And together, we achieve feats that these people talk and sing about in folklore.
Together, obsessed, stubborn, and intense, we are strong, invincible, unafraid to kill our darlings, if we have to.
Together, we are more than enough. We don’t need anyone else by our side to make it easier, the way they do. And together, we are dark and evil, if we need to.
Jane, as I keep telling you, I try to disregard, ignore most of it, let it all play out in the background until it all blows over.
Because if I don’t, the overwhelming nature of it all could very well force me to paint the walls with the inside of my brain.
A splash on the sidewalk below isn’t out of the realm of possibility, either.
And, if it all didn’t quite happen in that order, and I survived to finally give in, to fully embrace this side of me, this world will suffer.
This world will suffer terribly, and I will laugh in the face of it.
Unperturbed.
Clean.
Pure.
Empty of all the thoughts, trash, and jumbled mess.
Would you like that, Jane?
Would you want that?
Will you be able to bear that?
The kind of writing that shows up uninvited, barefoot, at 3 a.m.
