Locked in the Gaze of Other

I love every single person who reads my blog. I hate knowing who they are. I want my writing to be pure and unrefined, not something distilled through the filters of the Superego. I want to be mad and unapologetic, without feeling the appraising eyes of not-me like a hot wind on my shoulder.

I spin around and around and around...dizzy...giddy...desperately searching, hoping, praying to God for solid ground, only to have the floor fall out from underneath me once again. I think my therapist is hinting that I should simply embrace my destiny of solitude. I'm an inverted ego with no proper match, no fitting partner. The only attachments I could form would be a perversion of interpersonal connection, an abomination of romance, a blasephemy of love.