Once, I recognized my body. I knew its limits and its power, its strength and weakness, and it was a familiar friend. Now, it’s like a house with uncertain power supplies. I move through hallways blindly on days in darkness, sensing patterns with my fingers. The path has changed now, strange obstacles appearing where I least expect them.
It’s beautiful, here in the dark, but strange. Some days, I bite at myself like a wild dog. Some days, I am, myself, strong current. But the tunnel has no end-light. The map to resolution is nowhere to be found.