Thursday, June 7, 2012

Essay on Shame #6

My mind likes binaries. I'm not proud of this. It's longing to make that division between the "upstairs self" and the "basement self"--private/public, raw/cooked--even as it knows those divisions are simplistic, inadequate, dessicated. I'm constantly steering myself away from this longing and into more open waters, where all is fluid, all can change. Where the floating body loses and gains molecules to the water.

Could shame be useful? Could the fear of it be useful? Could the sick state of mind, the feeling where the water gets deep and drops off, where my sense of myself slicks out from under me on the stairs, be a reminder that the person who falls and the person who floats are the same person?

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