Showing posts with label fixation. old habits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fixation. old habits. Show all posts

the boab tree.

by charlotte guest
Once I saw a boab tree and I felt repulsed at how much it looked like an imaginary old-me.
I used to have a habit of projecting horror-visions of my future-self onto inanimate objects, something I hardly noticed develop until suddenly everything looked like saggy skin. Unmade beds and deflated balloons often featured in my dreams. 

The results of some self-psychoanalysis revealed the seedling of all this, buried in a thick layer of memory-dirt.