Letter to my present state.

[michikonogami]

I want to call you by your first name. Address you, confront you, define you thus limiting you. I want to give you restrictions-- what you're allowed to say, how you're supposed to dress, who you can communicate with. Better yet, I don't want to call you by your first middle or last name; I want to reinvent you, give you a new name a different title another place. I want to transport you rather. Have you move so far away I can't remember what you feel like, breathe talk sound taste like. You're a resentful sort, so bitter and distasteful that it's a wonder I keep you around at all. But I know why you're here, and I know why you've chosen to stay. The other was no better: the quiet, indifferent, blinded other was worse. You're loud, so loud and boisterous, almost obnoxious and self- destructive. You've come to teach me lessons on what not to be, by being the exact opposite. You are my anger and my frustration my short fused tear flooded friend. And you've come to tell me that my emotionally callous youth is the cause of my regret, the origin of my guilt. And you're right, I deserve so much worse for having that been so. But that doesn't change the fact that I still wish you'd leave me be.

Sincerely JPC.