How to Be….

There is this idea in the bible about casting the mote out of your own eye before you try to pick it out of someone elses.  It’s a good mantra to live by.  Why is it in my family, well, specifically my mother and sister C, believe they know what is best for me and have full license to tell me how to be.  I don’t need to be their creation, I don’t want to be their creation because from the safety behind my mote it appears they have totally f***ed up their life.  Okay, strong words, but one has to rely on the kindness of her family, and he’s damn lucky we are innately kind, and the other keeps chasing her happiness at the tip of a penis and is willing to sacrifice everything to that happiness, is no way to live.  You shouldn’t be….You need to be…..You have to be….I don’t want to be.  I’m in the process of redfining myself, that’s not a secrete, but the idea of rebaking myself isn’t to invite other short-order cooks to put their tooth-picks in to decide if I’m done yet or not. 

I will be who I am when I a have decided I am who I am meant to bs me.  How do I communicate that to people whose motes seem to extend into their  ears because when I try to explain what I am trying to be, they don’t hear it.  So, I will continue to whittle away my mote and try not to let their motes push me into a rage of insecurity against them and mostly, against myself.

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