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I look through the window of my compact mirror, and I do not like what I see. There are dark circles circumventing my eyes, from rationed sleep. As I methodically consume my lunch, there are two books set on the table before me. One is a factory resource book; the other is a book of poems by Silvia Plath. Guess which one was viewed during my lunch hour?
There is really not a lack of drama and intrigue in real life. As I’ve said before, real life often surpasses fiction. Everyone comes to me, as if I manned information central.
I am privy to diverging point of views and assimilate all information. These bits of scattered information, often derive from outside forces.
Like the guy who was recently threatened with his life, unless he paid a very steep amount he owed. And of the sacrifice someone made on his behalf, in order to save his life.
I am at a crossroad between choosing a solid friendship, over alignment with powerful forces. If I were to drop the dead weight, I’d have it a lot easier they say. In truth, I am not sure as how to proceed, as this creates a conflict deep within me.
I do not like who I see in the compact mirror; who is this stranger before me? Where is the sweet girl who dwells within? I hope that she is back soon, because I cannot write without her. My mind is too focused on the dollar bill. I think that I will dance around the flame, and be beholden to no one. Prudence is an undervalued virtue, and one should be dual in nature. That is an innate faculty of the female nature.
Los Angeles can make one hard and brittle in order to survive.
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