We can't even get help.

It's nobodies fault...not even our own, but it's ours to bare.

We are vixen, toxic, and icky. We are denied.

As a singular, "I" am always changing, gender, age, likes and dislikes, names, personalities, religion, futures, past, present by a moment to moment basis. New "me's" pop out of no where all the time. "I" am unstabile without identity. There isn't a "me" without an Other.

"I" wish "I" was dead....but the Others keeps us living....but who am I???

I just see, that's just me.

I know the physical and mental plus social causes and effects, but that doesn't help me.

I don't even know if me is me??? Me today is not "me" in 5 minutes.

Me is the physical...the rest is the mental...that's me/us.

I love it when I'm told to get a grip...I do, what about the next guy/girl?

So, feeling really more of a burden then helpful like a card catalog does standing in a digitized library...

We say....