when i became her

i feel sort of stuck, like a poem on a page, like i've crawled inside the words of my script, forgetting where they came from i put them back on and make them mine this time. the channel is wiped clean and i only see a fuzzy origin i make my own and here my troubles start.

i am not like this, but i have become this. the art makes the creator its own and i'm lost to the pain and wondering of what is in my hands and in my body. the dark imagination of her mind is now here and from this i write.

i used to act, but now i live. i feel everything inside is a paradox or in such violent contrast that my nerve endings are vibrating with blue volts. i'm giddy and anguished, or maybe my confusion makes me giddy and just a little too excited about something, i'm not sure what.

when i sit still every muscle fiber is jittering even if nothing moves across your vision. my thoughts are flitting and won't settle long enough to cry or laugh and so i hover between the two, constantly plucking the rubber band that keeps these waves chasing each other with speed.

i'm not like this. i have never been her. until now. until the thing i created took me and made a new me. a me i don't like, a me i've never known or met. but this is it. people are strange to me. distant, far. they touch me and i don't know whether to scratch the sensation of their touch off my skin or make theirs bleed instead.

i want a drug or pill that will stop the vibrating in my head and muslces. calm me. stop my thoughts and my feelings (if that's what they even be called). where do i begin, how will you fix me?