Confession

I'm twenty-two. A million years ago, when I was twenty, I wrote that I was like a mosaic that was always working on itself to make its squares smaller and smaller so the picture could be more detailed. I guess in this metaphor everyone else was like some really high-definition photograph and as much as I worked I couldn't get to their level of complexity because I was made by trial and error instead of nature. There was always something about me that wasn't as fluid or as soft or sharp.

If you're wondering what kind of human being would say something like that about themselves, I actually don't know because I am not like that anymore and it really does feel like a million years ago.

I have bad brains, probably the worst ever. Sometimes my bad brains shoot out horrible things like a geyser of shit and other times they just stall and wait around in the same circles. Most of the time the shit geyser and the stalling and waiting just combine themselves and feed off each other. It's pretty impressive that I manage to get anything done around here. I mean, frequently I don't, and I would never say that my bad brains are a thing of beauty and a joy forever, but I have come to some conclusions about them.

They are my brains, so I love them as much as I can.

I am not worth less than people who don't have bad brains. I'm also not better than people who are less able to get around their bad brains than I am.

I'm not obliged to trick other people into thinking that I don't have bad brains.

I love my bad brains because they are the apparatus I experience Creation through right now.

Back when I was a mosaic and not an unrepentant bad brains, I never knew how horrible things would be when I started experiencing them for real. But I didn't know how safe I would feel and how much I would love people, either.