I guess as I’m explaining who I am, part of me wants to hide, i’ve explained this before, the manic, and the depressive. Anything sort of creative exploration involves exposure and introspection, and from a lot of my recent introspection, I have a lot of anger, a huge amount of hate, and pretty much endless sadness. 

I honestly don’t think there’s anything wrong with anger, hate or sadness since I can’t talk myself into thinking I’m wrong, I have them all. We are not supposed to be perfect, i’m not supposed to be perfect. I’m not perfect, the imperfections are part of me. They are what makes me, human. So i can feel, so i can dance, so i can cry, so i can lie. 

My dad always tells me this is wrong, that’s wrong, this is right, but not exactly how you do it, you should do it like this, how i do it, but not quite, like this. I learned the kids these day call this mansplaining, if this was a crime, for all I know, he’d be jailed for life. 

What’s right, what’s wrong, who says? You? You sitting high up on your throne? Trying to fit me in a box, black or white, left or right, up or down, front or back. Is that why she’s like that? Is that why she hates me? No, no i won’t. I won’t fit in your limited imagination, your dichotomy of patriarchy, your misogyny, your manipulation. This is me, all of me, all faces, the good, the bad, the vengeance, the evil, the lies and the cheats, out in the open, in a language you don’t speak. What you gonna do? After all the hours you spent examining me, coming up with devious ways to train me, tame me, you still, don’t know nothing at all.