Saturday, April 08, 2006

An open letter.

I realise I'm a work in progress. There are many possibilities and versions of me to come, I know this (I promise not to be any of the matrix sequels though - that would be horrific and sad). I know that I am constantly evolving - most of the time pulled into the light by people better and stronger than me, who see something in me that I never have (or won't). I need that, but I am hard work. I resist everything probably because there is still that part of me that thinks that I'm unworthy of the time and effort. What if you unwrap me and I suck? What if there's nothing at all. I coul be a vacume - the truth is I don't even know myself. I wish I did. But this is better than I used to be, believe it or not.

But regardless, I'm still trying to decide whether I'm the piece of art that has been covered up by another and needs to be teased off with tweasers and chemicals. Or perhaps I'm a sketch whose lines need to be rubbed out and redrawn - the basic shape is right but the rest needs an overhaul. Maybe I'm a complete forgery and the real me is in some museum somewhere. Or maybe I'm like the Bronte brother who rubbed himself out of the painting altogether and is waiting for someone to come along and repaint me back in.

Despite it all, I realise here are so many possibilities of me yet to come. Better than me-now, I know she's in there somewhere. I'm working on it. This is sort of a promise to you and me that I'm working on her...

In the meanwhile for those who really care and I know that there are some in the pile there somewhere, I don't know why you read me but I'm glad you do. It's a squishy hugs, lots of love, don't really know what I'd do without you there kind of glad.

Thank you.