ABSTRACT
I broke. Down. Sideways. Across. Slipped. Lost myself. My body changed fast. Too fast. I broke. My mind couldn’t keep up. Or maybe my mind broke long before and my body couldn’t keep up. So she stretched out. And when she snapped back, seemed like everybody wanted to watch. I felt like a new cast member in “Beverly Hills 90210.” Now I know it shoulda’ been “A Different World,” but no, it was definitely “Beverly Hills.” Or was it Beverly Hills in my body, and a different world in my mind? Either way, I had safely transitioned from one location to another, from one conscience to another, but it was the almost fight that terrified me. Not because I was going to fight a dude, but because I couldn’t calm Fat Sharrell down. Yes, she was there. And she was in control at that moment, and I couldn’t save me from myself. Before that altercation, I assumed I was whole. Up until that point I hadn’t realized I’d been mediating different voices in my mind; distinct voices that either kept me hungry or kept me fed.
