A switch in each of us.

Something significant occurs and everything just clicks. All in its right place, in its right time and in the most ideal order. And then you realise, the world does not mould you - you mould it to your comfort. Like a craftsman, perfecting every little detail, a mother harbouring hopes on an unborn child, a song written on silence. Losing all that excess weight in the name of commercialism, changing what you are to the masses and flaunting how the pace of normality does not please you.

A saviour to the damned.

Speaking in a drunken slur, fast-forwarding life in a blinding blur. So you look back in retrospect and detect all the trivial matters that never seemed to exist but oh my, despite the tragic fact that you are substandard and defective, there is nobody else you'd rather be! Or more explicitly put, there is nobody else you can be. Along she comes skipping with such glee, bumps into you and ponders "No, how can it be?" - Usually this is done in the private room at the back of the mind but she is unique. She thinks of you alive and seems to think that it is best to let you know. You break out in a repulsive and maddening laughter hoping to frighten her away but no... She stays. Like inspecting a specimen, she stares with such curiosity and wonder warning you that there is no way to escape.

Suddenly, you cannot disengage.

In the beginning, you assume it's just temporary. Like all the others, you just happen to trip and land face down into this spiralling pit of pink, purple and red. As time passes, you shrink. Out of the blue, you decide to take a dip in it. Swimming in such vibrancy, you lose yourself for a second and almost like a moment of epiphany, "This woman, she will be the death of me."

Out the window goes all your beliefs and disbeliefs. How you misplace the idea of disowning the emotional capacity to contain another being in your selfish heart. How it sickens you to watch as your friends entangle themselves in mindless fucking (or so it seems). How you will never be ready to leave this peak of heightened awareness of androgyny. How there will always be so many 'hows' and only one me.

Change. As painful as it may seem, there is nothing to lose. This obstinate switch within me, stubborn and uncompromising as can be, clicked. Change. Against your will. Yet in the depth of your subconsciousness, it will conquer you. Change. Oh how I have forgotten how you feel.

There is a switch in all of us. There is a switch in you and there is a switch in me. There is yes and there is no. There is red and there is blue. There is freewill and there is fate. There is death and there is life. There is on and there is off.

And take it with pun intended if you will, but you, you darling?

You turn me on.