Each day I ride a great white stallion through the streets of my town but no one sees it happen.
I stalk the halls of government, leaving instructions, notes on policy, economic proposals. No one reads them.
I court the most beautiful shopgirls in town but they remain unaware.
One of my standard night dreams is a failure to please someone. My actions, or the way I live, are an affront to another person who lives (or hovers?) nearby. I am troubled by this but take no action to remedy it.
The person whom I fail to please is always a stranger, someone I have never seen or met before.
Whoever I am to myself, I am a different person to someone else.
I am a different person to myself now than I was when I was twenty.
How many of me have there been?
Consider how people change as they mature. The physical aspect becomes so different with age as to make one unrecognizable to acquaintances of 50 years ago. Are there not interior changes, cognitive and emotional, that are as drastic as the exterior changes to the physical self? Aren't there unseen scars, old healed-over wounds. Isn't there a graying of the soul?
How does one remain happy when one knows there are reasons not to be so?
Are there no negative epiphanies?
Call it Jason's paradox: a known secret, lost in found.
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