Reflection is just the gateway to depression
A recent MSN conversation has started me thinking, a dangerous and inevitably massachistic process, but one I can't help but indulge in now. I've been told that I hide who I am. That I come off one way, but in reality, at my core, I'm really quite the opposite. And I've been encouraged to rediscover this inner sanctum, the essence of my Self if you will. But how do you do that when you can't even remember why you buried it in the first place? Maybe it was locked away for a reason.
I've been called many things by many people. Cold is often one of them. The word itself might not be used, but that's the gist, regardless of the exact moniker applied. It's funny though, because I remember I wasn't always cold. I used to feel quite a lot. And quite deeply. I am put in mind of a metaphor, partially stolen from none other than Xena, our beloved Warrior Princess of bygone days. As her mentor told her, nothing is soft as water. But I have discovered that, no matter how soft water is, it's environment can make it hard. Cold. Maybe that's the only way that something as soft as water can survive the harshness of winter.
I've been called many things by many people. Cold is often one of them. The word itself might not be used, but that's the gist, regardless of the exact moniker applied. It's funny though, because I remember I wasn't always cold. I used to feel quite a lot. And quite deeply. I am put in mind of a metaphor, partially stolen from none other than Xena, our beloved Warrior Princess of bygone days. As her mentor told her, nothing is soft as water. But I have discovered that, no matter how soft water is, it's environment can make it hard. Cold. Maybe that's the only way that something as soft as water can survive the harshness of winter.