I'm sorry...

Slowly, I breathe in and let the butterflies fly around in my chest. They swirl and spin like confetti in a balloon.

What have I done? My words, my actions, they make little sense. That’s not how I am.

Pulling myself up, dragging my feet, I stumble into the bathroom. I observe myself,

“Have I changed?” I asked. The evil twin stares back at me, mocking every move.

My feet are heavy with imaginary lead, my head so light that it almost bounces off my neck.

The duality of the senses forces your brain to stay alert. Every little thing sends off an alarm to the skin. Little shocks of electricity that ripple through your flesh.

I’m sorry.