identity

If who I am must be defined by what I do, then the definition must be in my own words. Otherwise my self will not be mine. My reflection a stranger’s; I will not know her eyes. I must gather the artifacts of my life and record them on my own notepad and on my own terms. Lest my existence be merely on a string. I am a marionette no more. Scissors, pen and paper are my arsenal. A threat to no one except myself. But once I conquer myself the world may be caught off-guard. Stay alert. The truth awaits.

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