Ugh.

Ugh.

Great Excavations.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could poop people out of your system the way you poop out a bad meal? I wish I could throw-up all the garbage I've been fed. Pull the poisonous words out of my ears like I pull out earwax.

A physical cleanse in place of the illusive mental one I so greatly desire. A place on my head that induces brain vomit.

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls.

I live inside my head. I live in my mind, and my body is my home. I don't like to leave this home. I don't care for reality. My home is warm and snuggly, and everything is where I place it and where I want it to be. Sometimes people come in and rearrange when I'm not looking. I put everything away when they leave.

Outside of me, I have no control. Outside of my head, other people exist, with other ideas and other emotions and other motives. Outside of me, what I want means nothing. Outside of me, there are lies and undiscovered truths. Secrets. Realities that are not my own.

And then I have to wonder, who's reality is real? If my reality is the one that I know to be true, and it is only true because I don't know the whole truth, then is it really true? Is my reality real?

Because it certainly doesn't seem like it. At least the life I lead in my head, in my home, is something I can rely on. I know it's not real. But at least I can take comfort in that fact.