My sense of reality is so warped.
Much like anyone in...well, the world.
My dopplganger went from looking like me, to looking like my sister.
I know this is more than likely because we're twins, but Laura and I are polar opposites.
Anyways, Mags went from having black short hair to long blonde hair.
From wearing baggy shirts and her grandma's old clothes, to tight jeans and plaid.
Ah, The crackhead hipster look.
When I saw the picture, I felt somewhat shattered.
I then realized once again, that people change. They're allowed to.
Not only was the illusion I held unfair, but also completely distorted and non-existant.
Maybe even creepy. I dont know.
Pointless. All I can think of right now.
The fact I'm even feeling upset or writting about this is just juvenille.
I've been beaten and neglected, have starved and been shattered, yet I'm bitching about losing a memory.
Maybe it's all the tip of the iceburg. There's probably a whole other whack of nutjob-psychoanalysis my councellor must be getting ready to have a field day over. Any day now..
I've often felt like the life and being I am isnt really the true self.
But then again, being a practicing buddhist, I guess there really is no 'self' to speak of.
I basically created an entire idea/character out of another fictional character.
Kind of like the day you find out Santa isnt real.
It's not when your parents tell you- they like to think they broke it to you in some twisted, mildly sadistic approach- but you already knew.
You got it. Everything added up.
Everything became the REAL truth, and not the truth you've set yourself up to believe.
It was there in plain sight, and all you could do was count the number of years till Christmas just became another day.
I felt as if I had lost another sister.
But then I realized, I never had one to begin with.
It was all a coping mechanism to feel less lonely.
To feel that maybe, out there, someone knew exactly what all the crazy shit going through my head was about, and wasnt afraid.
But that's where it got messy.
It was all in my head.
In the end, we can only be the thing we woke up to.
Working today doing the exact same thing I've been doing for five years now.
Only this time, it's no sweat.
There's no importance in anything really. Everything is sacred, yet nothing is.
As insignificant as my first real kiss, or the first time I drove a car by myself, or got stoned- these moments dont define me.
No moment defines me. Because they're all in the past. Never to come back.
Goodbye Mags. I'll never forget you.
Rock on. Wherever you are.