Something paranoid and almost true turned over in my mind. We never change, do we. The self-centered and obnoxious little child I thought I’d conquered lives still today. Even in my doubt and lack of self-confidence his nature and pride show their face. No matter how many layers of humility or timidity I pile on top of him, he does not suffocate and die. His impatience and thoughtlessness always hide just under the surface, waiting to erupt in a blast of egotistical emoting. Who am I? What am I? What do I seem to be? I? I? I? A perfect obsession with the little black box I always see when I close my eyes. Impatience for something I can’t identify builds with every moment.
