the lives inside

I used to think that living inside my head was a bad thing until I found out around 8 that I was not the only boy, or human for that matter, peddling the big wheel uphill to an empty pond filled with Toad poop and flies. There is no question that in the end we are realized only in the thoughts of other people. Are we aware of this as our shell rots in the ground and our spirited self is renewed somewhere beyond all our contemporary comprehensions?
These conversations inside for most of us was realized, at least in my generation, with the movie Animal House when the devil and the angel popped up on either side of the kids face in a really nice representation of inner conflict and decision making; even though the situation in the piece was sexually and morally based making some uncomfortable at which point they should activate their right to change the channel or set the thought free comfortably from their limited minds, humor wise.
Living inside our head is where we spend most of our time. If too much conflict on the inside, then look bad on the outside manifested through eating, not eating enough, drugs (legal or other wise), booze, smoking, you name one). Inside is where some of us hear how fucked up we are on an everyday basis; how we would be better off in a bar someplace drinking the entire day away; smoking and socializing with fun and interesting people. Living inside our head may sometimes be a bad thing when too many thoughts occupy that space as if they were articles of clothing being spun inside one of those stainless steel dryers between 5 and seven PM. LLc 98.2