Who is the one person you hope isn’t reading your blog? Why?
I hope you’re not reading this. No, not you . . . the other you. The you behind you. The you to your left or right. The you standing in front of you. You know who you are. No, no for the last time not you.
I hope you’re not reading this. I couldn’t bear the thought of you reading it. You would have something to say, I just know it. You always do. You just have to be you, no matter what anyone else thinks. You are a real piece of work I would say. You have a way to get under my skin and stay there like an infection.
I try not to think of you more than I have to, but sometimes you make it hard. You seem to always be there, looking at me, staring at me, pointing at me . . . it really does get old. Do you know that?
Still, I hope, as much as any man can hope, that you are not reading this. I’m sure if you are reading it, then you think it is about you. You probably think all I do everyday is just sit around and think about you. You and your style. You and your panache. You and your, oh everything I suppose.
You are really something, I can’t say it enough. I just hope you aren’t reading this. I’m sure you have better things to do. I’m sure you have better places to be. After all, you are you. There is only one you and I’m grateful for that!
I hope you’re not reading this. But, if you are, by some chance, reading this, I just want you to know, no matter what you may think, it is not about you. I think I would like you more, if you weren’t so you. But, you are who you are, so what can we do. If you do read this, try not to make it all about you, please. I can’t stand it when you make everything about you.
You know, just for once, I would like things to be about me. I would make a fine subject I think. But no, it has to be about you, all the time, doesn’t it? You know who you are. Don’t try and hide and pretend.
If I could just get it off my chest, I would just say, you, you, you . . . oh, never mind. You probably aren’t reading this anyway.