My self is a slippery bitch wants to hide in the mud. I try to lure it out. It tells me to go to hell. So I went and stayed till it ran out of masks. I sigh & ask, "What now?" Self says, "Don't look at me for help." So I wrangle the bitch out, make it sit while I draw. It doesn't like it one bit, but it's high time to live. I don't know where we split, maybe since the first period. The self no longer fit, so it went escapist. Gee, I wonder what we could've been. Probably happily in oblivion. But then I'd be bored. So I guest it worked out best.