They say one never knows what one will do
until confronted by extremity.
In theory I would never, she’d eschew,
and you would sooner die than act like he,
except events upset our plans so much
that we surprise ourselves by differing
from whom we thought we were – we’re out of touch,
it seems, with self. We don’t know anything.

I’ve heard that all my life, but it’s not so
about myself. I’ve known since I was 8
exactly what I felt and how I’d go –
I haven’t needed circumstance to date.
And though my friends concur that I’m demented,
each declaration that I made? I meant it.