on a serious post script.....

looking at the world with spinster eyes
at 26
too tired too wise

its the proverbial gilded cage. the key has slipped through my fingers ages ago. dusk has settled making it difficult to make out what should be glaringly obvious. staring out of the cage, eyes large with wonder and amazement...how is one born so beautifully incapable of the most basic? with brain, 2eyes, 2 feet, 2 hands...all perfect...and yet so absurdly incomplete it has no cure because it has no name....its amazing how many times the human body can be shattered and still rise up and withstand some more. can the same be said of the heart? i doubt it and it scares me that i'm being made a guinea pig in this game with no name....

my cynicism comfort blanket is proving to be of little use now...people are less tolerant of a difficult adult than they are with a rebellious teen...withdrawal my only option it seems....my tentative forages leave me more shell shocked each time than before....

'Some people are born not belonging'...Salman Rushdie, of all the people in the world, is ringing in my ears at the moment....

oh yes, i have to guard against the self pity...