I used to have some pretty scary thoughts.
In a recurring dream, I would be attacked by an army of tiny me’s.They’d clamber and climb all over me and I would grab them and eat them.
Crunch down, slurp the sweet coppery insides.
Until I was full, and I’d disintegrate into a million tiny me’s.
We would charge towards a giant me and hope we would be the ones destined for dinner,
Sooner the better.
My life is like that,
Some days I’m the big one.
Greedily enjoying myself at the expense of all the tiny me’s.
Some days the small,
Running headfirst into oblivion at the behest of me on better day.
In a better mood.
Less anxious.
Less autistic, more masked.
Who the fuck even am I,
or who are we?
There are a million tiny me’s that make up a big one.
I don’t know which one is the real me.
Or if it even matters.
Maybe I am all of them,
None of them?
Now, that’s a scary thought.