As we get older do we imagine our lives so differently, do we stop being courageous, begin to live in fear?
Do we enclose ourselves in a comfort zone we are unwilling to break open?
Instead of just doing, do we justify the reasons for NOT doing?
I have what I call an Angel and a devil on my shoulders, they talk to each other.
No I am not mad, maybe a little wacky, but that is me.
I have been told many times that I see thing in psychedelic patterns, not like other people. I look at life in an illogical way, the wider picture, yet my personal life is in a box, locked tight with chains and padlocks.
I guess I am a perfectionist, although just occasionally I do rebel, I expect to be treated with respect and for things to be unflawed.
This have been a bit of a bugging point for me, I use it as an excuse not to do things, I tell people it’s not quite right, the wrong font, colours, wording, but often the more I mess about with things the worse it becomes, and in the end I will give up and start all over again.
I remember from my childhood, going to show my parents something, say a drawing I had done, when it was half way through, or an unfinished story and being told quite firmly bring it back and show me when it is finished, and of course to me it never was finished because it wasn’t perfect.
Is this the start of my perfectionism, or am I imperfect?
Does anyone really know what the truth really is, what is truth and what is being economical with the truth?
Who decided what is perfect and what is not, after all, you may find fault with the words written here, you may think they are far from perfect.
Or you may disappear into your own psychedelic patterns and lock the door and creep back into your own comfort zone.
See I am not making any sense to you, but to me it all makes perfect logical sense.
What is this world of fantasy we live in. Or is it a fantasy at all.
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