Praise him.
Shhh! I'm going to stop time sweetie! The pipes have been drained. The rain is no longer wet. The sky is green! Oh my! I think I just blued myself! These colors spinning, spinning. Tinted in mind. Don't go in there! The rooms are full of creatures, lurking behind that painted door! Hahaha, praise him! Praise the gorilla! Praise the zebra. Don't be stupid, unicorns don't exist. But impossible astronauts do! Hahaha praise him. Praise him.
Self Image
I am your Ego.
More simply I am your perception of yourself.
When you stand and gaze into a mirror you will see yourself reflected within the glass, I am how you see yourself in your minds eye.
The other difference between your mirrored reflection and me is that the mirror will always reflect you how you are, whereas I skew your image in favour of a more likeable you. I try to be as generous as I can to you by always trying to show you a favourable picture of how you are.
Although you may have a face only a bulldog could love, to me you are drop dead gorgeous. I'll wager that when you sing aloud, you hear perfect pitch while others run for cover, you can thank me later for that little trick.
While I always try my damnedest to show you yourself in the best possible light, I am vulnerable to attack and in some unfortunate people, am defenceless against assailants who bolster their own ego by damaging yours. This can happen most easily through verbal attacks and bullying, and often I am so sullied by these attacks I begin to believe them, and thus your image of yourself will deteriorate. This is a deadly serious position to be in as a low self image can lead to self harm.
I can be restored however through care and counselling, so all is never lost.
I am formed within you when you are a child, thus, how you are treated as a child will greatly affect the image I show you as an adult.
I am your ego.
Be nice to me.
Worth!
Sometimes I do produce outstanding work, but I am the worst possible judge of my own work, so I try to be as humble as I can about my posts.
Often I'll write something so incredibly dire (to my mind), and post it thinking it will garner zilch likes, and it goes on to be quite favourably received. If you check my profile for best liked posts you'll see my most popular piece was a simple sentence about a deceased daughter, this took seconds to write and post. Yet work I've slaved over and polished to a mirror finish gets four likes.
But that's how it goes isn't it?
I am not a judge of my own work. Like they say beauty and value are both in the eye of the beholder.
S C A R S
My scars are almost all hidden within my mind, the few that exist on my body are like medals won through experience, and I carry them as such.
Perhaps my most serious scar is now healed (thankfully). I used to be a biker and took pride in my 1200cc Yamaha VMax until that day some 26 years ago when I was hit by a motorist and knocked into a picturesque stone wall. It caused a compound fracture in my spine and for the ten minutes it took for the medical team to arrive I was the subject of much attention from passing strangers who all stopped to look.
It struck me as actually quite funny in an ironic way because I realised that people only ever ask you if you're alright when it's obvious that you are not. Still, I'm guilty of that myself so I can accept it.
On another occasion I was advised to take more exercise so decided on a course of daily jogging. My route consisted of a simple three mile jog across some very lovely countryside, alas on my first outing I fell down a beautiful slope and broke my ankle. It snapped with a resounding crack and I lay there howling in agony. After fifteen minutes the pain subsided so I hobbled back to my hovel with one ankle swollen to the size of a medium Zeppelin.
On another occasion I had to be in work extra early in the morning so I set my alarm clock (this was before smartphones were even thought of). Knowing that I was terrible at getting up early I placed my alarm clock about six feet from my bed, so that I would have to get up to turn it off. Next morning my alarm went off as normal so I dived out of bed and strode quickly across my room and kicked a chair that was hidden in the blackness of the night. Result - I broke my little toe on my right foot - ouch!
Besides the above I have various dents and marks on almost every limb - trophies of past battles or collisions with solid objects.
My inner scars stem from my childhood and those have been well documented elsewhere on Prose.
If you add an e to scars you make scares - funny that - not!