Masquerade

Here I am .
Living a life is that isn't mine .
Where did she come from - the girl who masquerade's as me ?
I don't think I like her that much to be honest , she's loud and she talks entirely too much .
She suppresses her own dreams and lives in fear of failure - always .
I don't like her .
She isn't me .



Some stories have to be told , some heard and some read but all stories must be felt . Every story carries with it a feeling , a color , a thought and a fleeting glimpse into a world that isn't. I looked everywhere for a story I wanted to tell . Something that I knew would mean a lot to those who read it . But finding a story such as that proved to be more difficult than I anticipated .

Even then - we all have stories. Most of them fairly entertaining ( I discovered this when I took the time , the trouble and the effort to prod and poke people and find their hidden stash of secret stories - I can't help it Im naturally curious) and often stranger than any fiction you or I have ever read . Personally I like to read when I am upset ,alone and want to get away . And right now I want to run away .I want to jump off a cliff and fall - fall into nothingness .I want to squirm enough so that I am outside and in and then I want squirm right around . I just wish that I could do what I want , that I was strong enough to stand up to a life time of expectations of indoctrination , but my heart revolts aginst my brain and calculated pleasure gives way to emotion and Im left floundering in the murky water waters of confusion .

Until Vanilla Ice cream finds me again ....