I have a thousand conversations in my head, I wish I could pluck one from the squirming mass and bring it out into the light of day. If only I had the courage to pick at my psychosis and pull my crazed words into the harsh light of day. Would that loosen their grip? Keeping them in is a complex and tiresome task, so I sometimes let them out, they mingle with the mundane and are seen. Which are real and which surreal? That’s a question for the sane.

Is there anyone out there?

©The Autobiography of Mr. Perfect, 2013

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