Self-Portrait with Nothing

by Aimee Pokwatka

It was a feeling she got a lot, really, a feeling that the universe she inhabited was so tenuous one wrong move would send everything into disarray.

It was an impossible thing, living under the weight of your other selves.

It was so exhausting, the work of reconciling yourself to your own wrongness.

It was hard to function split in two, each version of yourself feeling less real by the second.