Self Portrait

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They can think what they want about me but I know who I am and who I am is better than they could ever hope to be. It’s not vanity if it’s the truth, right? I don’t hold myself above anyone else when it comes to status or looks or wealth, honestly I could care less about these things. It’s my attitude that riles people up and makes them an enemy before they’ve even taken a chance on knowing me, really seeing me. If they stuck around for a moment they would see me crying on the aisle we sell laundry detergent on while I remember how many times I was beaten as punishment for a faulty washing machine. It wasn’t like I made the damned thing, regardless, I was taught a lesson because of it. I find myself wondering if you think of me some frivolous airhead who is only worried about how it looks like and not how it really is, but rest assured, I have no alterior motives, I am drawn to beautiful things and it’s not my fault that you’re one of them. Would it offend you though if I told you that you’re not broken enough for me? I picture myself blackening your pure skin with my hard working hands and despite the cynical air you carry about you, I think it would disturb you. My dirty hands, I mean. I think you might be as crazy as I am, but yours is more a Norman Bates type crazy, quiet and trying to convince yourself you’re not while mine is more, well I have no one to reference to this, no one you would know at least. I never thought that you might be like Them, not when you’ve spent so long trying to convince me that you’re not, but life is full of surprises, sometimes nasty surprises. While you’re sitting in that little dark room, painting your skin with the images you see in an attempt to display the insanity you claim to have, I’ll be out here painting the world with mine.

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