Onions

My friend Marlee was telling me a story about Onions. She was looking for the core of an onion - the center of the onion - at which level does the onion become the center? Her conclusion was that the whole onion is the core.

I've been thinking about this the past few months and more so in the past few days. An onion. I feel like an onion. There are so many masks to my personality. "Still know nothing about me." None of them are fully who I am. "Steal my eyeballs and come back for the sockets." But they are all some part. "Pour over everything in my C.V." But each of those masks are part of me. "Run every kind of test, from A to Z." And make up a core of who I am. "Run my name through your computer." Yet at the same time, it's not me. "Take my fingerprints, if you are able." Who I am is a fleeting feeling. "Search my house with a fine tooth comb." And no one knows me all. "Check if I paid my income tax." There is but one person who does. "Pick my brain, pick my pockets." C'est Moi.