differentials

 Ingredients:
1.  Instincts - Women’s intuition, you’ve all heard of ‘em.  + Indian Brahmin certified Psychic Aura (oh yes, that’s me). I know what love is. I know what fake is. I catch pauses and hesitation, and I know what they mean.  I don’t know why.

2.  Memory - Oh. I could not remember what I read in Harrisons and all those books… I have severely debilitating memory lapses… but I have this random memory bits that pops up here and there when needed. I know what has been said at what moment.

3.  Calculations - Could you stop me from plotting the time lines and adding all those ages? 

4. Logic - Put memory and calculations altogether… Even deadlier when your instincts get sharper and play a part and shed truth.  The puzzles can’t resist forming itself.  Lies will be revealed and insincerity will surface.

5.  The wounds - Oh yes, I got some of ‘em fresh. The unanswered questions, the seeds of distrust… they have taught me… they will haunt me.

I am getting too wounded and dirty too fast. It is the self-awareness that bores deep… to know you are someone you didn’t hope to be.

I am in septic shock. I would have died. But the pressors of anger, distrust, pride and instinct of survival… they will tide me over.  My love of self hydates my veins. These dirt shall be crushed with the antibiotics of vision and goal and time to bring me back to life. It might even crush normal flora–the good for me.  There is no distinction. It is fight, fight, fight.

Oh. I hate being intubated. No external force will help me. I will breath. I will pump and keep the blood running. On my own.

I am in fire. Cool me down in time. I am in enceph. Calm me in time. I am in sheer sickness. Heal me in time.

So now, do you expect me to go back and bear new wounds and put my shield down?

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