this feeling of emptiness,
this state of being,
isn’t a conflict between feeling dead and alive.
it’s more an ethereal, metaphysical
sensation of not really being here.

in the past two years I’ve changed identities more often
than I have had the chance to find out whether the mould fits.
I’m adaptable, for sure.
disciplining my thoughts and personalities
towards serving productive ends.
I know how to give people the me they want -
the happy, loving, family me;
the productive, efficient, smart me;
the me that’s gotten her **** together;
the me who has her life in order.
but I feel amorphous.
shapeless.
less and less
anthropomorphic.

less and less
concretely human.

as I focus on the tangible accomplishments,
on numbers and approving looks.
as I condition myself in a certain way
to succeed, I feel like I’m losing
something concretely human.
an element of constancy
in my personality, a key indicator of
concrete humanness.
it’s not that I’m spineless -
I know how
the world values the opinionated, the fiercely independent.
I just feel

faceless.

shapeless. no identity. no humanness.
no concrete indicator that
I’m actually here, in the real world.
that me existing as me - whoever she is -
counts for something.