Diamond

    I've noticed there are so many different facets to my Self and my reality. So many different archetypes that play themselves out within me and outside of me, in the World of Form. Some lightings and angles and areas will distort my reflection into looking sickly and ugly and others seem to make me shine to the point of passing for a 6 on The Scale. Which these days is a privilege and an honor, being so fucking "lowly" and all. 

    It's crazy how many facets there are on the human diamond. I could be looking into the same mirror, or a different mirror, hand held, portable, or krazy glued to the bathroom wall. I could be looking into a pond on a cloudy day and having a pretty easy time coming to terms with that reflection. But honest daylight is really where you start to look through the diamond and allow your heart to ache.

    I don't always feel like I'm good at speaking anymore, even though there's a part of me that's becoming more and more aware of how articulate I really am. I've seen my eyes go dead and vacant, like I suffered a head injury and like I'll never be the same again, but I've been recollecting the fragments underneath that illusion (yes, the diamond is an illusion too if not more convincing) and I'm putting them back into focus and back together, so not only I get a fuller picture, but some day other people might as well. Sometimes I love being this way and sometimes it feels unGodly and disgusting. 

    I've had people reel back in disgust at me, or even clear their throat or cough to let me know, "Your presence is revolting. I don't want to have to deal with you but let's make this as polite and politically correct as possible. I'll do that by either cringing back in fear, using an overly sweet and sickening voice, or by plastering on a terrifying Rictus grin." Looking back on them they were great experiences, because when you look through certain lenses things can appear differently. "Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear."

    I feel like I'm letting a certain archetype come out, through therapist Sara, who feels almost like Alex Delarge from A Clockwork Orange, minus the ultraviolence and psychopathy. But to be fair psychotherapists can be worse than psychopaths. I could put these experiences into a book...an autobiography to feed my acquired narcissism, or I could keep it all to myself which is more likely. Unless someone finds this notebook one day, once yesterday's Sara has already passed on, and wants to keep the memory of psychotherapist Sara alive. 

    It's probably cringeworthy material, and if you wanted to stop reading I wouldn't blame you. But it's fun to read back to myself nonetheless. Because if people are going to be terrified by you, you may as well be mentally hilarious, even if it's in private.

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I can accept myself more easily as a diamond than an ego. Not because I'm unbreakable, rare, special, or coveted, but because I have many different facets. People have static personas for the most part but they constantly flow through different archetypes, and a lot of the time without fully realizing it until they're ready to. The archetypes are the friends, or lovers, or pets and owners, or cousins, or mailmen and residents of the mind. The inseparable hobbits, or the demon possessing the innocent, or the faefolk interacting with the men. 

 They usually have to choose a mask or two to save face so The World of Form doesn't become too much to take in at once, and most of the time they forget to take them off when they get home. I have, unknowingly, my whole life. I've been hiding my world too. It's not so much about landscapes, characters, and stories, but feelings, knowings, and experiencing through the eyes of a God made human. Except I usually forget that I'm God.

I don't know how else to put it so I think I'm borrowing some words for the time being. Eventually I'll find my own. Turn 10 degrees to the right and you're working with angst, weakness, and shame. Turn 20 degrees to the left and you have a Goddess. I face myself directly, in the honest daylight, and perceive the stark truth of being a plain, slightly off-putting pawn of a human being who's gone sick.

I turn around to face another angle, and the diamond shifts and glints in the light, and now I'm unhinged, wild, and mystical like a Lady of the Woods with no elves to watch over. In order to see the beauty in yourself, you have to fully admit to being ugly. In order to grow a psychopath you need to water someone's seed of darkness with enough trauma to break it open, and in order to grow an angel, you need to do the same, except the sun has to be able to fully reach it and transmute it.

If you look into someone's eyes and see the inside of your own heart you'll know exactly what to cultivate. I'll never see myself through the eyes of another, but where else do I have to look, except in the social mirror? Because the glass one in front of me has become one in the same.