The Paradox of Me

I shouldn't be blogging.
{shhhh. I'm in class}

But it's the only way.

This week, work has left every other realm of my life wanting, and so I resort to a melding, a synthesis of all, if you will.

I must disclose to you a confession. It has been churning from within, bubbling and boiling inside me, as the boy in the desk beside me belligerently chews on the end of his pencil:

I am victim of the Schizoid Complex. 

Reader, observe me from afar, as this most monstrous malady takes hold of me.

I am a liberal conservative,
a leading assenter,
a surreptitious prominency.

I am an anti aficionado,
a starved food addict,
a Californiated Utahn,

captivated by the idea of boredom,
dreaming of waking
from an occupied vacancy
of a most luminous night

I am a soulful caucasian,
a skeptical believer
a beggar, richly dressed;
a stationary traveler,
a knowing amateur.

I have exposed the facade of polarity with negation,
have minimized the infallible with question.
And I have pranced about in motley dresses of every color, 
only to find that on that first spring morning, all I could wear was blue.

© 2010 by Rachel Lowry. All rights reserved. (photo via: vis.ualize.us)

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