Illusions, and other powerful things.

My self-centredness angers me sometimes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how self-centred we (I) can be sometimes.

It’s been getting to me.

A tidal wave.

A red-hot bubble of rage.

A deep, dark vortex of self-disgust and shame.

Monstrous, human, fearsome, afraid.

I’m scared

of myself.

I love

myself.

I don’t know what’s right or what’s real.

These possibilities, these potentialities, all with such intensity…