************a recycled one for Saturday
I don’t think I have a split personality; but if I did, would I know it? Maybe it’s just the neighbor’s marijuana wafting in through the swamp cooler on a hot day, or maybe I really am two people living in one body.
There is the confident me and the fragile me, the gregarious me and the shy me, the funny me and the me that wants to curl up in a ball because of the pain. There is the performer me and the wallflower me, the erudite me and the stupid me, the me I see and the me everyone else sees.
Some people think they know me. I can carry on a conversation and appear knowledgeable on many subjects. They see me as a good listener . . . well, except when I just “need” to interject. I make eye contact. I am sympathetic and chagrined at the…
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