The most important question I ask myself is do I really like to shoot myself naked?

The most important question I ask myself is do I really like to shoot myself naked?

Or was it a mockery of myself? But later I try to save it and raise it, accepting my child as it is, to love and ennoble this action.

Justify myself and turn it into beauty. It's like I'm holding a multi-faceted stone, and each side has its own facet, each of which I consider. Trying to dedicate myself to something bigger, trying to make myself a guinea pig, first of all for myself. What have I done to myself ? Has time affected me like this? Or did I influence the time with my actions? Asking myself these questions, I find myself on the adrenaline roller coaster again, I'm scared of myself naked, I admire myself naked, I'm worried of others because I could inspire them to undress, I admire that I write about it.

Or I really have always loved it and believe that I do it for myself and for the future to look at myself young and remember this chiseled beauty created by nature. Or I made it up for myself to save myself from myself. Or there is someone inside me who will never let me relax, will always condemn me and take away all my freedom of expression, trying to drag me into the ephemeral standards invented by society for the survival of the species.

In search. Perhaps all this at once, depending on who took over the internal management. It's like playing the piano, a lot of keys are pressed at once, and a melody is obtained. I have been living in this naked accomplishment of mine for a long time, this is my norm.

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