Internal Fire

We are the only two who know, you and I. I lay here unknown to all the others, quiet and safe and small, but each day I grow more and more, each day you hide less and less. I won’t tell if you don’t, but soon they will know. And they will stare at you open mouthed and whisper behind turned backs. But hold on to me and never let me go, not just yet, let me remain a few months and I will sit quiet. Hush hush. That reminds me, I am hungry again. Sorry. Would you mind a sandwich? Pickled onions and cheese please. I know you don’t like pickled onions, but I do, I really do. They remind me of- well I don’t know, when I’m older, more experienced, more external, I will come up with a reference point. For now I just really want that sandwich. I promise I’ll only make you vomit twice a week if you say yes? Come on, please? I don’t think you have any idea of the pressure I’m under here you know. I am having to ask myself some very probing philosophical questions here. Do you know how worrying it is not knowing what I was doing three months ago? Surely I can’t have just popped into existence from nothingness. Perhaps in a previous life I was a cat playing too close to the road, or a mayfly in June... I must have been doing something though right? Unless I’ve been hanging around in dark places this whole time, separated before birth, one half pottering around in your ovaries, while its drunken male counterpart saunters about with the semen, waiting to get lucky. Now I come to think of it I have been feeling slightly dislocated... do you think I might be schizophrenic? Or am I just being paranoid? Is paranoia a sign of schizophrenia? Hello? Am I going to be ok? Can you even hear me? I Am The One Tugging Your Umbilical Cord! Ah forget it. [Sigh] Do you think you could move the lamp a little nearer? There are things I need to shine a light on, and I'm finding it very difficult to continue with my writing in here.