I picture that inside of me lives an infantile, primitive version of myself, that happens to look like a dwarfed version of me. This is the creature you encounter when I am very, very drunk. The one that pees outside, eats with her hands, and wants to fuck. Anything. This creature also has feelings, and she almost exclusively feels unloved, and is afraid of being abandoned or attacked by those around her.

The primal, vulnerable version of me is the antithesis of how I want to be in the world. I want to be strong, confident, and capable of having fulfilling relationships with people. The creature is too afraid of everyone to do that.

But what if, at the core, the creature and I are one? I imagine this, that I truly think no one loves me and everyone is out to get me. There is enough evidence to support this hypothesis. This is frightening.

I am like a black hole. A force that can take in what others have to give, only for it to exist as an anomoly, something that can never be seen or known.