I am man trapped in the body of a woman. WTF. Why the hell are men so obsessed about themselves? I am a man and I am straight, gay, cross-dresser. I, I, I, me why is everyone so self obsessed, I am self obsessed. Too self-absorbed to look at the finer things in life. Are there any finer things in life? No. People are so mundane, I am mundane too. There are no finer things in life, but there were some; like things you remember when you were young. How I wish to soak them in oil and salt, in a clear glass jar and bottle it for eternity… then when I feel glum I can have one from that jar. Or maybe just look at them when I am wallowing in self pity over what the hell went wrong?
I won’t finish off the whole jar though. I hate when great things come to an end.
Like great books; I never want them to end, my heart flutters as the books thin on the wrong side. Great books are like smashing people, you want them to remain like that forever twist, turns and clashes with all their intrigue and mystery. But everything great comes to an end.
And ends are so abrupt it’s like hitting a wall at150 miles/hour. Ends should be easy, smooth but what the hell, ends are ends and they end like that. Bam!! Hits you direct in the gut and send you reeling till you feel like the cross-dresser who isn’t really a cross dresser but a woman disguised as man disguised as a transvestite.
That’s precisely Nowhere.
