Nootsuit

It is, at times like these, I’d like to simply tear apart my own head, my own rationality and thought and have it—no, I’d like my very being to be on the cutting board. I can run any thought rampant into the ground until I myself am convinced of my own sanity. Often as a boy I would wander into a bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror. This was, me. I had that certainty. This is who I was given to believe in, that this was, indeed, myself. This shape, body, and soul constructed who “I” was. The dimensionality of any given person or idea is a product of our own interpretation, a given article to us by circumstan