Ah, the bipartisan of 23.

All people seemed to question X about was Y.

Where is Y?
He’s at…
-Time passes between drinks-
It’s so cool Y gets to…

Yes, X thinks, but my career has just begun.
I write poetry and I love to paint.
But X halts the thoughts.
When was the last you spoke on any of these things?
Let alone…perform?
All X has since been associated with is Y; the epicenter of her life.

It’s disorientating how the sickness begins; a foreign entity heaving between cold chills and hot sweats. I swear one’s immune system cannot contest the combination of chemical reactions. It only leads to the detraction of certain treatises; an assault to the entire formed body.

What is it about being nose to nose with the inflammation of love that immediately succumbs your entire definition of a self – to a whole? It detonates your existence as the heroine into a dual deuteragonist. The chain reactions are…conflicting. It’s dangerous. Love is a tricky exponent that dismantles your sense of self. It leaves the defining question when the objective of life is posterior by death…

Are you happy alone?

Ah, but X’s genome. The depths of that pesky genetic code. Constantly sating her ego, one with a robust taste for external validation.

Somewhere between a belated nervous breakdown that sent X home and a fifteen-hour drowse, X found a wake in the conflicting plot. This X can audaciously attest. The unease within oneself, in the dark unaided, will resurface unannounced within a relationship; and oneself will blame its cherished partner responsible.

Before you wake, they flee, and day brings back your night, we often forget to peel back outer layers and find connective tissue.

Where is this deriving from? The unease. It’s been haunting X for some time, locking her in a former state. Oh, that intangible place. But X’s epiphany was followed by events that seemed divine for her timing, for her to understand the troubles within herself. Events X doesn’t really need to explain in a public blog space.

X’s intuition was always strong. A tug at her gut with a nearly perfect performance rate. However, lately the anxiety clouded that distinct line between – are these anxious thoughts or is this my intuition? This chemical reaction versus an ability beyond conscious reasoning is housed in a messy glass shell. Its roommate – a soul that is no longer being fed and nourished.

It wasn’t Y, X concluded, rarely was. It was her and the circumstances she was reacting to. Poor X, she was always victimizing herself when she had the ability to reframe conscious decisions all along. During perpetual evolution cycles within ourselves, X somehow lost touch with that roommate inside her shell. X’s identity, her passions, desires, love language and all…it wasn’t the next great American mystery. It really wasn’t that difficult to perceive; X was just neglecting it then blaming it for being blue. The quarks of her being, refusing to charge and spin, led to a quasar crashing her entire core.

The discontent was distributed across multiple fragile surroundings. X was displeased with alliances and lacking self-love. She was…drained. So much spilled out of X, she rarely had enough to water herself.

It’s a beast hard to tackle when its impossible to see with the naked eye. It is one that people are caged with more often than not and make enemies with, despite never truly being able to escape it. Those held in captivity often looks for those on the outside to overcorrect. Concessions can feel like a dead-end compromise, imbalances and if X ought to muster the word…mistreatment. Activating Crisis Monogamy Mode rarely fills a void, and few make it out to tell the tale. It’s like clinging to a lifeboat when we all can float on our own backs.

We’re dynamic blood-flowing multi-dimensional creatures…and all those chemical reactions, hormones and silly synapses are crucial to befriend and less intimating once given a name. Our friends: serotonin, endorphins, oxytocin and dopamine. And our frenemies: estrogen, testosterone and progestogen. All of that twirling inside of us (and much, much more!) brings upon an intensity of emotions. It’s heavy if you can’t understand your own cycles. What is the root of your tick?

The ebb and flow are for a lifetime. X is learning the pattern, studying the decline and observing the regrowth.