following is a poem I wrote about my dissociative experience:

Circular Musings

Would you be surprised to hear that your face disintegrated
like a digital video breakup--
a stroke-of-lightening-interruption at the crucial point in the movie
that makes you quiver because of your involvement in
the storyline?
Somehow I don’t think it would astound you to know that this happened numerous times
While I was LOOKING RIGHT AT YOU!
And I had to blink my eyes over and
over to make it stop because you don’t have a reset button.

Do you remember the dark December afternoon when I exploded?
You didn’t know it but I was only five and strapped with explosives.
My shoe was lost
and all I needed was for you to comfort me and help me find it.
But you wouldn’t see me no matter how many times I showed you my face
and frightened, I sought refuge behind the drapes.
Maybe you couldn’t see me because my face disintegrated too
But there was no mirror so how would I know?
So I had to leave with one shoe on and I cried all night long
I wonder how many molecules are in a face?

What would you call a tool that measures degree of fear?
Would you call it a phobometer?
What would be the reading for the degree of fear experienced
At the precise moment a little girl’s fantasy is smashed to smithereens and she is dragged out of her reverie by an intruder who looks familiar, and proceeds to peel back his facial skin revealing the alien beneath just like they did in Cocoon, the movie?
Be advised that this measure does NOT gauge how frightened a baby is when her mother moves from view in a room where-on the surface-all is pleasant.

I wonder why your spoken language changes from moment to moment?
And whether it’s my hearing or a need for a U.N. translator phone?
How can there be so much noise inside when it’s very quiet outside?
Why does the noise that’s inside become less audible
if you turn up the volume outside?
If everything is visible then why does if feel like something is missing?

(c) 2009 Miss Charlotte