Half of me was tied up in a chair in my mind, locked behind the back porch of my consciousness, screaming for the imposter to remove their Antônia costume and let me take the wheel again. I couldn’t let this be my end. I couldn’t just ruin everything we’d worked for. The other half of me knew I was both versions of myself, and that the dead and numb version of me was the only one who could finish what we started. Through was the only way out.
