cuz I know it like the hand on my back. Patting me. Oh, that's my own hand? Tant Pis!
My arrogance is completely externalized because inside i am pap.
The stuff dry wet nurses fed their upper-class charges so they wouldn't be dismissed for having their milk dry up or maybe just to get the royal teeth off her teets for a feeding or two. But the pap back in medieval days was an evil gruel of milk, animal fat, bread, and often brought on colic.
Indigestible material. That's my personality. Pap. And what you do manage to digest makes you sick and crampy and cranky and hating the world.
That's one. I have to acknowledge and respect it. But it's stupid to lead with it. If I had more control over my personality...oh...that's what the steps teach?
sign me up.
See, I been out a few years experimenting. Buddhist, wicca, spaceships full of extraterrestrial saviors (I had to stop the one babe from trying to track every odd light in the sky and physically restrain her from packing a suitcase. What does one bring for intergallactic travel? I think it's something we need to investigate right away.
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