I keep losing the story I’m trying to tell myself.

Am I kind? Reclusive? Devoted? Emotional? When I dissociate, am I me? Am I an amateurhacker or a half-baked mathematician?

Sometimes no matter how I place my bets, the story doesn’t seem to follow.

I can’t bin myself well, but if I don’t, I don’t know what to tell myself when the days fade into each other, and it feels like living isn’t so much a choice but rather an exercise in acceptance

I’ve had so many things desired of me, and I’ve fit so many molds over the years, but it was nice because they all came with a pre-built narrative.

Now I’m carving my own path but some days it feels like there’s several of me to juggle, and they are all born and dead in a day.

One day I feel incredibly happy about some upcoming change in life and the next it’s genuinely like another person is scared about it or sad.

I can’t predict how I’ll feel about anything or maybe even who I’m going to be in a week. It kinda just clicks in and out.

The only time I feel really stable, like I'm happy with who I am and where things are going, is when I'm with her.