I Am Ready

It’s time. I need to let these this roll. I have these things I want to write. I am afraid to say them because I’m afraid I’ll Bret in trouble. Even as I let these words move from the safe space in my mind where they’ve whirled for so long into this big sticky gooey and completely entrapping World Wide Web, I can feel my pulse quicken and my stomach tighten. And the scariest part of all of this is that I never know if something I want to speak one day feels like my own voice on another day.

Because I’ll slide right from thinking I have some profound shit to say to telling myself that none of this is real, that all of this is made up and an act. Maybe before I speak, I should find out. Use the money Mom left me to invest in some serious mental therapy…really answer this question and get back to weekly meetings with my therapist. Join yoga again. Go to a hypnotist. Find a community. Write. Focus on the only thing that matters. Dig for the diamond. Hold myself accountable for doing what I need to do in order to do what I’m meant to do. Whatever that is.

Well…I will put it here. I’m not entirely sure what I’ll be doing with it when it’s time to renew in a couple months. I have a few people but this page (I’m assuming by accident) once in a while and I’m delighted to see so many visitors from countries other than the United States. Somehow that feels safer and even more anonymous.

I need to find out if I’m a borderline personality who spends a majority of my time carefully creating and curating a nice replica of a woman with fairly complicated case of dissociative identity disorder or am I truly a We? Is there really more than one person experiencing life and existence within this meat coated skeleton? And if so, who are We when we come together?

I am ready to find out.