in this whole theatre of mine
….. it is all about …..this searching for meaning
But even more, sometimes it is also about identity ….
How many times as a child did I have to reinvent myself whenever we moved….changing schools; peer pressures, bullies…. new mask, new shield ….a kind of artistry to it but…. you get so lost in there
I stumble over —what do I call myself
and return to Electra as the natural conclusion
born of illegitimate secrets and a pinned on name that was never my own that …. I could not wait to discard it…. then each name I hence acquired by marriage carried their heavy shackles but ….
what’s in a name?
and so, yet again
—a rose by any other name….
and….
am I not who I created after all? by intention or weird fortune this Frankenstein born of unheard of sums of algorithms…. but then so aren’t we all ?
never simplify
maybe I am just a satire with its own natural conclusion
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