I need to form a relationship with myself. That is what I have failed to do. I live in the past, or the future, but not in the moment, not with myself. It sounds weird. I’m fully aware. But one needs to feel comfortable with their self no matter what the situation. When I write, I write for myself. Not the throng. When I think, it comes from me. It spills out of my own intention. It doesn’t look back and evaluate. Its as if it looks itself in the eye, with confidence and an earnest smile, and utters whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t blush or look away. It persists and awaits a reply. A reply that warms over, resonates, appeals, swallows, envelopes. I talk with myself. I relate to myself. I have a personal relationship with myself. I discuss my flaws, my concerns, my anxieties, my achievements. I do not boast to myself. Nor am I proud. I respect myself, and the self respects me back.
Hello self.
William Dare 