“Like the fear that you're standing here 'cause you want to be liked Like you know you need your instrument But does your instrument need to be mic'd” -Ani DiFranco
The only problem that I have found with having split personalities is that none of them know when to shut the fuck up; “Split Personality” in the vein of naming different aspects of my persona. Not necessarily in the dramatic sense a la “Sybil” but I’m thinking more on the level of “United States of Tara” minus the severe sexual molestation beginnings and… actual psychological diagnosis. It’s more of a literary effect I have unintentionally adopted to form more complex characters in my writings, I often covert emotions into fantastical paradigms then give them a name. I have no idea how healthy this is but there is something about the compartmentalization of my feelings that seems rather productive mainly because in the broadest of strokes, I’m a hot mess. I’m just an over-emotional, hypercritical (and hypocritical), passionate artist and it’s great when I can hone in on some of that fervor, call it Ralph, and then walk away. It just works for me.
But again, Ralph, and all the other dudes in my head, just have big fucking mouths. I am definitely an ace at keeping secrets but when it comes to myself, I have a predilection to over share. I think my blood type could possibly be TMI. And I don’t really have anything to hide, it just becomes problematic when people tend to, let’s say… judge your whole house by what they see through your constantly open windows. And I do have my bouts of extreme fatigue during never-ending explanations of “that’s not what I meant” or “that’s not what I feel” or “that’s not what I said” to the point of often times wanting to close the shades for good. Instead of doing that, I call the inclination “Malcolm” then walk away.
For those not in the know, currently, my government name is Malcolm. Now… Malcolm and I have been at odds for decades and at this point I can tell you (or maybe “over-tell” you) that Malcolm is definitely slipping away as of date. Breeze is cool. Breeze is fine. Actually Breeze hasn’t been healthier. Malcolm got laid off from work awhile back and is dying on the vine. Breeze on the other hand is making great art, looking to start his own business and is shopping for leather harnesses with the greatest love of his life. Malcolm likes McDonald’s. Breeze cooks. Malcolm is kind of intimidated by people taller than him with more established careers. Breeze... has a bigger dick. Malcolm isn’t necessarily miserable but I can definitely tell you that he bores the shit out of me with the moping and the complaining. One glorious day I think I’m going to have a sit down with the little cherub and just check up on him but for now, I’ve been having way too much fun fucking with Ben, drinking with Martin, cooking with Raymond, praying with Santa and writing by myself. Definitely helps that all of us are in love right now… and with the same person thank God.
And just for the record… yes, I am going to keep my windows open a little while longer. No, I’m not going to explain the roach motels on the counter or the dildo in the frying pan. Yes, I am fine. No, I have not cried and I have no intention to. Yes, it is a full-fledged love where I’m not just in love, I actually like the guy. No, I couldn’t care less about your opinions about it. Yes, we’re moving in together and there is talk of marriage. No, I couldn’t care less about your opinions about it. Yes, he’s clearly aware of much of a mess I am. No, I couldn’t care less about your opinions about it.
