Just a Thought

What am I? What self-aware creature doesn’t ask themselves this basic question? At least, that is to say, what non-cowardly self-aware creature. Then again, that is to say what non-cowardly self-aware creature that is uncertain of their own existence… hmm? Perhaps I could have been clearer from the start. I am a narcissist. I know how important I am. The only reason there is air is for me to breath it—I don’t breathe. I am self-destructive. I know everything that I am not, and I measure my worth through my inabilities. I am inadequate. I am contradictory, yet I do not attempt to excuse my hypocrisies—though I assume one could say that is what this is.  I am an "I", an "I" that is afraid of itself, but not afraid to wonder what that I is. Hmm…? Not entirely better at all. Too many words still. Again? Even though I am an alive-dead creature in a dead world full of other alive-dead creatures that seem to possess less—nope. I forgot why I even started writing this, which happens too often to admit. Though writing that admits in indirectly how often… I should delete this.  But why hide my failings? They make me just as much as my rare successes. I lack confidence. 

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