my life is a cake...

(unearthed from the archives of My So Called---Angst)

compared to being a box of chocolates, i have layers. and i don't like surprises, that's why i don't like the "you-never-know-what-you're-gonna-get" part either... my icing. pretty as can be. and the part that gets the most attention. there's usually something about me that people tend to focus on. it maybe physical, or not... and sometimes picking on that icing too much doesn't do much justice to my cake. sometimes, i feel that's all they see. (whatever it is that they do see) how 'bout takin' a bite out of the whole package here, eh? for acquaintances, it's the money. for friends, it's the hair, or skin. for other gay friends, it's the voice. for high school friends, it's the hair, the skin, and the money. my cake, bareth art thou...

now, the cake. my cake. never was it fun to eat the cake without icing. i can be like that sometimes, to other people. take out what they see, and i do not exist. just a bland cake in the table, not to be touched-- much less eaten.

the special filling... this... now this... only a few people appreciate, or even get. sometimes, they see something extra. and that's what makes eating the cake worth it...

the bottom of the cake... only a few people settle for this part. sometimes they're the same ones who get and appreciate the special filling. and, these people, are the ones that see the cake for what it is... nothing more than a pastry, designed to get attention, stimulate interest and desire... and finally, induce action to eat it. something desired, yet easily forgotten. made for all, but only a few can truly appreciate. not for the taste, not for the icing, nor for the presentation... but for the wholeness, that makes a cake a product of passion, designed to please anyone who so does cross paths with it... my cake. my life...