I must hold my own without myself present.
And every time the blind, side-parts of my body hide from my eyes i wonder. Are they real? Or mere imagination? Humiliation in knowing others see the parts of me that hide even from my own eyes. Hide from my grasp of knowing and exceed my reach. Flipping off reality and turning inside-out my certainties.
There are parts of me that exist only in other peoples worlds/eyes/mind/reality. How can i have grown trust to reject it? Then only learn to trust in never knowing? Other people keep these parts of me that might not even exist alive and real and instant. Present in this separated being of existence.
These are parts of me that cannot exist in my own state. They are me but not mine. Kept precariously shelved in the corners of another's life. Both whole and partial, part and parcel, separately tied together. By the laws we do not know but which define us.
