dear trouble ahead diary,
i am beginning to think of my readers as part of my conscious. like a cornish hen is really nothing but a small chicken, my readers are now brave mind soldiers who trample through my thoughts and help me sort out things that don't even belong in there. even though thoughts still come, and even tho people don't cut up and fry cornish hens- they are still chickens and just because i let soldiers wade through my brain now, doesn't make it any less of a brain. or does it?
i am beginning to think of my readers as part of my conscious. like a cornish hen is really nothing but a small chicken, my readers are now brave mind soldiers who trample through my thoughts and help me sort out things that don't even belong in there. even though thoughts still come, and even tho people don't cut up and fry cornish hens- they are still chickens and just because i let soldiers wade through my brain now, doesn't make it any less of a brain. or does it?
