A voice across the river

reminds me that I've lost the plot. Yet again. At least I'm consistent? Frivolity aside, why do I find myself asking if this is what I really am? An abstract painting; blurred and open to interpretation. Is she right, or am I just following a different path? And that's the irony. Neither of us is wrong. Yet neither of us is right. No single truth. It's so easy to pick a side and justify it; the good, the bad and the ugly. Always endless possibilities. I think I might have forgotten what it is to walk in someone else's shoes.... entralled by the sight of my toes wriggling up from the gorgeous new ones, easily slipped off whenever I choose. Makes you realise how effortless it is to be thoughtless while deep in thought. God, I really hate to be a stereotype and I'd toss the damned letter if I could... What was I thinking????