The Last Thing I Wrote

The last thing I wrote about was my life.

It seems that self re-discovery, and reflection is trivial in these times of the 

"me" generation. And instead of wasting time. I will pursue something different.

This time your time can also be spared.

I've discected myself in halves and quarters. And spent far too long time under isolation and quarantine. This is about you. The body builder, the babe, the cougar, and the plastic surgery freak. You can cover yourself in tattoos. And pierce what you're feeling, but in this small universe time is ever fleeting. Trust me I have no aversion to people and I'm not a xenophobe. But rather than listen to a radio. I'd prefer a piano, a violin, including the xylophone. And even some synth. Than this gentrified hip-hop. And people with no real lashes, or talent taking over the airwaves and my newsfeed. I'm tired of looking at pictures of your ass, and your bulge, and your breasts. You should think about the world we created rather than catch up on rest or soak in the sun.

Or the color of your pedicure while you soak in the tub. Be real. It's not that hard to do. But look who is talking to you.

I've bared my butt and bulge and edited my face and hair and even posted pictures where I don't recognize myself there. But I've had enough of it. I chose to be real.

And embrace higher energy. I reached deep down in my soul. I'm not saying I'm not guilty having woes. Troubles or doing the same kind of thing you do. But it's time to elevate yourself and go back to school.

Atleast read a book. Use your imagination.

Do something with someone or yourself.

And read the holy works to find inspiration.

And you can elevate yourself to higher energy. It's more important than you, and how you care for yourself. It's an extension of that. But we are really humiliating ourselves. Trust me I sometimes can be the same. But trust me I also don't think I'm Erika Kane.