The Misappropriation of Oneself
I can’t remember the last time joy came without a precondition. I can look at old photos of myself and remember the work out or the foods I ate that day that made me either happy or depressed. I can feel the hallow or bloat in my belly that pre-determined the Elizabeth I would be. Was she going to be chill or anxious? Was she going to be powerful or weak? Strong or desperate? Worthy of your attention or laughable? Stupid or brilliant? Was she lovable today? I blamed you for these standards. I said you demanded too much and gave too little. I said you were an asshole. That you made me feel like shit. I cursed your name...