I have not reviewed this old post but I know that it will have some grammatical errors. But what I do recollect is that it enjoyed some notoriety. So I resurrected it for you.
There I was a youth in the Bronx. Loads of illusions were crushed. I sought, as a result a tougher side within, one which could survive all the adversity. I found it. Found it for a few years to suffice. Made myself a rep. Strangers knew me, I did not know them. These, my rep, were things which filled up the corners of their lives, and so it was easy.
But that only lasted a few years. Then I began to betray self. The pseudo self I had erected. I was unconscious to it, but it was there nonetheless, conflict. In the form of Anxiety. Conflict, why, because subconsciously my Psyche knew it was a lie. A fabrication. A front.
Like that which most of us erect to take the part of a soul.
Yes the soul cries out, it thirsts, it yearns, quests, and so we go on. We search…
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