I do live with your highness, your royal, the great, but I do have thoughts of my own. I’m quite tired of itching when things go poorly, but at times, I am calm at home.

I don’t read books, I only watch movies, but that’s because I like to be alone.

If I gave it a second thought, I might risk an encounter with my other, and I prefer to live alone.

Sometimes I’m angry, because what little joy you promised to give me, is ripped from me, so suddenly.

And I throw my tantrums to get your attention, and you let it take you along. You try to fight me, but my anger becomes too strong.

It is the one power I have; to be angry about my place in this world, so I project this feeling so that you may see what I’m seeing.

There is no justice until we’re home. And to be reminded, that we are one, but we’ve only parted, in a memory so distant, that you may not remember it at all.

This was written back in 2022, I wrote it to a future and present me, and as a universal expression of the dichotomy in any human being.

This prose was written with my left hand under the notion that I was going to let the other half of me speak.