A Crowd of Ghosts

Imaginary people with imaginary souls make me feel all too aware of just how truly deep the holes are in my living, in my presence, in my quote unquote essence because the illusion is so subtle, the image so complete – that there is nothing else to do but talk to them and see if they ever reveal glitches. Often times, they quickly do. There are a few who got much further but the ones that make it through are clearly prodding me the same way. I do not know what they find. I do not give them a chance, usually. I do not like for my mind to be read without permission, presentation of the proper forms. It has yet to be given, as no one has shown that more can be added to complete me – no, they just want to unseat me, usurp my throne and verbally beat me into a shape that feels much more safe, with steady arms for wedding cakes.

Imaginary people never think that they’re beneath you. And there’s no third party to raise its hand and cede to you that you are in the right (you are up so late tonight) – and most of what you’re doing is probably alright.

It’s the dead-eyed Russian girls that first gave it away. A look I mistook for a lack of words to say about the state of their condition or perhaps an admonition against the melodramatic types that I often am myself. Well, unfortunately – I know they have imaginary souls. The weather in Russia is so so very cold.

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~ by perfectionatrix on January 1, 2011.

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