introversion – thirty four
is not in need of a remedy
unless you’re warm eyes
a soft tongue
you can mend my malady
It’s not easy to explain the character changes without peoples minds defaulting to their comprehension of modern psychological interpretations and industry generated stigmas.
There is nothing in the history of humankind, in ancient texts of far more intelligent men and women that ever suggested humans were so disjointed as psychiatry and psychology suggest.
Multiple personality disorders, schizophrenia, bi polar and the list goes on, all of them only modern constructs, designed to suit an agenda of lining the pockets of predatory hucksterism, snake oil merchants selling the idea that you need their diagnosis, and their pills or their ‘expertise’, repetitively to be whole again.
I am alone, and I am together.
I am alone without being lonely.
I jump into character to suit the environmental and/or life challenges.
I can be the soft fingers a newborn needs to clasp and smell, to recognise he belongs, she belongs.
Or I can be the callused hands that show industry, your steel hasn’t been hardened enough to break me.
I can be the spoon my spouse needs to reassure her someone is an umbrella to the household.
Or I can be the boa constrictor that will squeeze the life out of a soul that comes near my family.
I can be prose, tongue, meter and melody, stained fingers, watery eyes and acid filled shoulders.
I can also be silent, craft-less and barren.
And there is nothing Jeckyl or Hyde about that.
Because I have spent enough time staring inside me to know that we all have the same potential, we’re all whole, we all have characters but some of us are spoiled and don’t want to play the role and would rather escape with convenient cradling, to the handouts of laced cookies to make a you a fein.