Buddy can run self-censorship, but only when the censor’s sensitive to his needs, a relationship born to not work freely, an inner dialogue over which to obsess, there’s no room to confess – the censor’s on patrol, monitors your secrets, new and old. He or maybe she keeps notes, and all the detail that they wrote and write and will take down in future you have given them, they’ll make you something better if you can only believe in them. The censor says that he or she is something in which you should believe, and you can laugh and say that you are your own person, you don’t need another version of the inside of your mind because the current one is hurting, you can deal with it.
Cut the cord and let yourself drift, it’s not confusing but perspective tends to drift from one day to the next. It’s not the kind of thing that needs to be recorded in the text, recollection can make the difference and affection is enough to help you go the distance.
Disorder renders me hopeful, maybe some day I will self-censor like a pro will. Until then, I stumble over phrases, get lazy, suffer sentences that get passed down to me daily.