It’s been a blood bath.

I am so grateful to be away from the museum right now. Workplace tension is ridiculous.

Four days of the week, I sit and stare at a naked Asian woman for 15 minutes.
She simply lies there, staring back at me from her post on the wall. More than that, she is always about to drift into sleep.
I envy her. I envy that people look at her so searchingly, that people always find her so fascinating. Obviously, I am one of those people. We stop, and stare, and read the little blurb on the wall over and over again.
I could spend my short break on any number of benches; hell, I should probably be fawning over one of the many amazing Frida Kahlo paintings on the other side of that floor.
Yet I always find myself in front of her.
Perhaps it’s her evident repose, or the starkness of the floor upon which she reclines in the painting. The whole of the canvas is painted a sort of cream color, not much different from the color of her skin.
Swatches of bright colors stretch across the top of the painting, and images of material delights echo these colors along the bottom.
I stare every day I’m there.
Under her unconcerned gaze, I somehow manage to unwind within those 15 minutes. I am always reluctant to walk away.
I am starting to understand something.
I am a good person trying to be a bad one.
Well, I will attempt to put a stop to this. I am not a booze hound, or a serious kleptomaniac.
I have a caring soul; perhaps too caring. I want too much to be liked and yet I don’t care for the opinions of many.
I know I am selfish, to a degree. Name all of the seven sins and of course I’ve dabbled in each one.
At some point I decided that if I couldn’t be a perfect person, I may as well embrace my vices. No one is without faults, so why not just accept them?
Obviously, the attempt to eliminate these faults is a noble one. All the better for yourself and the people around you, if you care about either.
Gah. Lately my logic seems to be increasingly more circular. I need some mind exercises.

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