i don’t fit into a box because i’m a shape-changer,
not — never — one thing but always shifting;
colloquially schizophrenic,
a locked-room mystery,
the ability to inhabit two opposing viewpoints at once
— i am that.
& like the flipping of a switch, i woke up today enraged and ready to fight run escape destruct —
if i lacked the ability to dissociate i would be long dead.
still there’s searching, searching for some way to alter my chemistry, my perception, my experience —
six feet isn’t an unbridgeable chasm;
not like my inability to fathom a mind in which suicide was never an option.