Dear ghost,
The blue pill that you fed me; that I swallowed until it choked me. That pill has a name they say. It sounds like the memory I cannot trust. Like the sweet mask you adore. Like wanting to stay in yesterday. Like the race that never existed. Like the humans I want to run from. Like the overwhelming emotions that you and I loath. This name I do not want to name. Even as I utter it, it describes me gorgeously. But it is a drug, indeed.
I am the dwarf of my pride. I am the delicate behind the giant. The fodder of my anxiety.
Yours even as I fear to be.