Are You a Strawberry? I Really Don’t Know

This is between you and me.

Just us.

Nobody else.

I have to put myself back together.

Literally.

I mean, put my sense of self back together.

It’s hard to understand, even hard to envision, for anybody who has not completely lost their sense of self, for an extended period of time, not drug-induced; not temporary, because this sense of self is how we experience the world, everything filtered through it, so much so that it is impossible to see the forest for the trees.

It can’t be done, until you erase the trees and still see the forest.

We can’t escape this sense of self, unless it escapes us, then we notice its absence, just like you don’t notice the oxygen in the room, until somebody sucks all of it out, and you are left writhing on the floor gasping for breath.

Then, oxygen is very noticeable.

Until then, not so much.

That’s what a sense of self is like, unnoticeable, until it’s gone.

This sense of self colors every experience you have. It embodies your emotions and intellect and reason and intuition. It relates each and every experience, to you, from you.