Metamorphosis

I think I’m becoming strange, like that person whom I always used to call strange. it’s just karma, isn’t it? That whenever I think something ill of someone, that ill always befalls me. So now I am strange, or eccentric, I don’t really know how to describe myself. I am certainly quite aware of my becoming stranger, but there seems nothing that I can do to stop it. It’s growing from the inside, an inextinguishable force of nature. I can sense that people are seeing me differently, hearing me differently, and the words that I say no longer carry with them any whip of wit or elegance. I am strange now, and I say things that strange people will say, and all my friends will not listen to me the way they did before because I am saying such strange things. I am morphing into a person I cannot understand.

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