Another earth-shattering revelation.

Sometimes, I find it really weird that I am able to move. Sometimes in Honour Band or History, I'll just stop and think about my hand for awhile. I like to move the fingers, to clench and unclench my fist. Sometimes I feel like the fingers on the hand aren't my fingers at all, but that I can control them, that I can watch from a distance.

I don't feel as though I am my body. I feel as though I wear my body, as though I put it on every day when I come back from dreaming, from being in other bodies (because I am almost never in mine at night).

It's difficult to say this kind of thing without sounding as if I am either complaining or spouting body-image clichés ("it's what's on the inside that counts"). I think my body's alright...it's perfectly capable and functions about as well as average, while allowing me to blend into a crowd (and thereby observe that crowd from within). But it's just a covering for me, a costume that is particularly difficult to get out of. My body is a puppet, and I'm pulling its strings.

Of course, sometimes we're so perfectly synchronized that I don't think about anything of the sort.

Scrolling down on this page, I noticed that it's been somewhere like three weeks since a proper post (i.e. a musing or a rant with a more ambiguous title). Again, I apologize. Next week shouldn't be so bad, so I'll be able to get back to what I love doing.

I'll let you imagine what that might be.

And sometimes, my mouth moves completely independently.