Life seems to be at war with it’s self. I and all else lives as the life we can possibly call of our self. For every self is there an I of which dwells within. The I of every person expresses a self. So is self really somebody or am I all that is? Which is whether or, or are we confused by the only I having more? More of you, am I and less of you, am I few. Does it matter if I love myself to get to you? Would I feel it more or less if you love you? Why would you love yourself to get to me too? Because feeling me feels you. We are fighting to be. Your fighting fights beating me. Beating me fights being. I am being fought. I fight to be. Life is a war and who wins loses being.
Categories: Karlton Kincaid