I'm a million people inside one.
One day, I am feeling feminine, I wear a skirt, a nice top, put my hair up nice, mayb wear a bit of makeup.
The Next, well I could be grungy, jeans, polo shirt, hoodie, hair pulled back, hands in pockets, rock music.
And then I'm just me, the person I enjoy being the most, old mucky jeans tucked inside wellies, big fat warm fleace, trudging the fields, stomping through mud, I may, if I'm feeling decidedly adventurous even swing myself up into the arms of one of the great trees and sit and think and dream and plan and forget. But then I have to come back to earth with a bang, and realise my dreams, are about as much use as a tin without and opener. So I stop dreaming and my world becomes flat, and boring and 2-dimensional. new dreams just don't appeal.
And then there's the person I have to be, I have to be smartly dressed, well spoken, not sullen but not too chatty either, I have to think before speaking, lest I embarress someone, with some "blonde" comment. I hate that person. That me. The person that I am expected to always be, never me.
Society is a depressent. And everyday I have to wake up and say to myself, hello, goodmorning and who are you today.
