being the second person comes naturally to you. not having a name comes naturally. you have no identity but the one others impose on you for that moment. you are a professional second person.
referring to yourself as ‘i’ seems foreign, strange. it gives you a solid sense of self. this is forbidden, of course, because you are nothing. you are no one on your own. you are a mere projection of other peoples opinions of you. why the fuck would you have the right to refer to yourself in the first person.
you are the second person and you are constantly waiting for something interesting to happen in your life. its your life but you feel like the supporting character rather than the protagonist. sometimes, you watch yourself. sometimes you take a backseat and your body goes on autopilot and you go for a ride. you are the second person, no longer in command of your damaged body and mind.
there is no ‘i’ when it comes to you. you are you, you are a projection, you are a shadow, you are someone who exists only when others are around. and yet you desperately hide yourself. existing is a punishment that you cant especially seem to do to yourself. your physical body (is it yours?) takes up too much space, youre too physical, too corporeal, too demanding. you are the second person and you arent allowed to do that.
when you are feeling especially secondary, you see yourself as a dressed up brain stem, barely alive. you consider what removing other parts of your brain would do for your mood, how you could live if you were just a person without a consciousness. maybe you could be much more likeable. maybe no one would notice the difference. maybe you couldnt survive without that much brain. you could accept any of these three options.
you are the second person. the person in the mirror is not you. the person behind those eyes is not you. you are somewhere else. you see hands attached to a body that is supposedly yours but you are not moving them, not exactly. you exist, barely. you are the second person.
there is a void within you that takes center stage these days. it takes charge when you cant bear to be human, or sometimes forces you out of control. you feel less and less like you should. you are the second person. the void has to take control because it can be a better person than you ever could. you wonder if you are empty or if the void is your true self or if you are secondary to this void or if you even exist at all.
you are the second person.
you dig into your skin and look for proof that you arent human. wires maybe, or stuffing. but theres just skin and muscle and blood and veins. its just boring flesh. how can that be, when you arent a person?
you wait to be called upon because asking for anything — help, water, love — is to put expectations on others. you dont want to be a pest because you know you are the second person not just in your own life but in everyone elses. and you cant afford to waste the good will people have towards you on frivolous things like ‘human interaction’.
so your mind fractures more and more each day. you feel less human. you are the second person. you arent sure what life would be like if things were different. you are the second person. you arent sure if things could ever have been different. you are the second person. you wish you could matter to at least yourself. you are the second person. you are afraid to even think about yourself. you are the second person. you are the second person. you are the second person. you are the second person. you are the second person. you are the second person.