I ask myself many questions. Here is the one which puts the lid on them all. Let’s hope the vessel is not a faulty pressure cooker. Or we’ll have to redecorate the kitchen. Maybe have plastic surgery.
How would I see myself if I met me?
Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear. If this isn’t a mind blowing hammer to your mind nothing ever will be.
I always wanted to frighten myself. Now I have.
Talk about fly on the wall (different concept). Which I’d love to be. Just out of reach of the whatever that plastic contraption to flatten flies is called. Do you remember, and you will if you had relatives with farm house kitchens, those terrible sticky tapes? Still don’t know what’s worse for a fly: Sticky tape or a spider’s web. I myself, if I were a fly, would opt for the spider’s net. Whilst struggling and then dead at least someone would benefit (the spider). Call it recycling.
How do we see ourselves? Many things may send you, screaming, to the woods but few other questions will. Think about it. There you are: Say at some dinner party and someone introduces you to you. If, by now, you aren’t frightened, as to the answer, you are invincible and may I congratulate you that you are not able to see what’s in front of you.
I’d love to meet myself. After the inital blip (most my friendships start with blips – ask my two husbands; you couldn’t make it up unless you were an accomplished story teller) I dare say we (that’s myself and me) would cross swords. What they call in sports: A friendly. Just to stake out the terrain. Get a feel. But then what? I have thought about this, recently, many a time. I cannot get my brain round it. It is crazy. Looking from the outside in. From the inside out. Don’t overlook this in your equation. Not only are you meeting you, you are also meeting you.
Let this fester.
Delighted, I am sure,