I know where my on switch is.

I had to clear the dishes from the small sink and set them on the small table to dry. I had to turn off all the lights. I had to pull all the blankets around me, set all the pillows against the headboard, and lay back, to feel good. I can't touch anyone because my hands, my fingers are frozen and lined with sweat. My feet are the same. No footsie under the covers because I'm like ice. And because I'm alone right now.

On the t.v., there was this woman with cancer. She had a policeman husband and one daughter and one son. They were on this show, a home makeover show. Some people got together to build them a nice house to live in and it was a surprise. People cried all over each other. It was supposed to be one of those sad-but-happy moments, you know, you do something good for dying people, a dying family. It makes you choke on cheesy tears. Those people were lucky. But what about all the other families. All the other people with cancer, poverty, hunger for the good life. We're all just a little bit jealous because most people aren't so lucky. Most people don't get what they need on reality T.V. They need more.

You know how it is when you're listening to music through headphones, and it's quiet, and the music is amazing, and you're thinking about being in this song's music video? I'm doing that. In this one, I'm standing in my room, listening to Sigur Ros, when I start moving my arms like I'm fluid and graceful, moving like a dancing swimmer. I'm sort of doing the one-person wave, and I start to float into the air. I'm lifted. And the sun starts shining into my room, straight through the blinds, even though it's fifteen minutes to nine at night. I'm wearing a flowy dress and I'm the prettiest thing you ever did see. In a music video.

I took my thoughts with me to dinner. I ran to my loved ones, and let all out of what I just had seen with my two real wide opened eyes.

What it was like to spill it. Like this giant, glowing pitcher of glass, full of everything I have inside, just tipping over, onto a nice blank sheet of paper. Big, with all the room I could ever need. What it was like to spread it all out so it can be looked at, picked at, picked up, passed around, was so good. It felt so good when I knew how to do that. Satisfaction takes away the need to search with a pen, or with your words, your touch, to search with someone else, something stronger, something unreal or imaginary. When you feel it's all there, it's all there is.

Ring size.

I had to turn of all the lights in my room, even the small light streaming from my wax melter, to be able to talk about anything. Like putting the world on pause, so nothing could move or breathe except my hands and my eyes. I know my trick, I know where my on switch is. It's in the dark, in the music, in the spot behind this glowing white computer screen, in the love I have and my dreams and my phobias. I flip it On and Off again.

I have a twin, only she's three years older. The closest to me. Perhaps I had some unfinished business in heaven or our embryo's were separated. She left me advice on the walls of the wombs, secrets and wisdom that I'd soon need. She is, what I want to be. Beautiful, a creator, thoughtful, hard working, an example, a mother, a friend, and inspiring. She's incredible.