The I, The We, The Us — and Me

— from Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 3
Friar Laurence’s cell

• Romeo. There is no world without Verona walls,
  But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
  Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
  And world's exile is death: then banished,
  Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
  Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
  And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
• Friar Laurence. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
  Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
  Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
  And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
  This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
• Romeo. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
  Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
  And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
  Live here in heaven and may look on her;
  But Romeo may not: more validity,
  More honourable state, more courtship lives
  In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
  On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
  And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
  Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
  Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
  But Romeo may not; he is banished:
  Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
  They are free men, but I am banished.
  And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
  Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
  No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
  But 'banished' to kill me?—'banished'?
  O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
  Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
  Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
  A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
  To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

Romeo and Juliet was one of my favorite books.

Poetry was a thing everyone loved,

A little rhythm here,
a line here, a rhyme,
there, a heart broken,
a heaving chest.
Gasping for air,
breathless, begging for rest.
Grasping—at repair,
hands retracted,
full of despair,
the mind spirals,
ruinous,
aware.

My favorite parts of books were always tragic.
I read more than I remembered.
It taught "Me" how to love.

Unfortunate ...

Libraries are free while you roam the streets.

You could just sit outside,

under a tree

maybe leaning on something random

sitting in an odd place reading something

trying to stop the static

I still hear every voice I've ever known, and recreate that in my head.

The person I'm in love with most? They may say something they don't fully mean and tip their words too far. Even I'm guilty of that.

Sometimes they change, another person becomes my, something ...

Their voice can become a record stuck in the same track line.

This is dangerous, but manageable if kept logical, aware.

Usually this is something "I" will try to monitor,

but he thinks he's smarter than he is.

He loves intellectual dialogue.

Sometimes it's just weird and fun—a lot of singing,

usually this is a "me" thing.

He is difficult to describe, but I'm aware that he's the most important one for some reason.

People play with "me," he is naive, empathetic, and natural.

A romantic "Me" is my favorite "Me," comfortable with femininity and masculinity, within the same form.

He is very trusting and intuitive to what just feels ... right?

Even if it’s not “correct.”

They are all romantic, but he is just deeper than the rest.

He does not discriminate or identify ... he just is ... whatever whenever ... but often has trouble understanding things.

Definitely the most intelligent,
and emotionally well-rounded of them all though.

Somehow he has intuition that none of them fully understand, but he doesn't care. "I" would believe that it's humble wisdom to him,

always something to learn.

You don't have to listen to "Me" if you don't want to, but it's usually a good idea.

Sometimes it's my confidence

"I" will analyze my ability to do something

Our record keeper, sometimes intense, and quick to overthink,

but "We" get the job done.

"We" are workers together,

but individuals, maybe a little too focused.

Sometimes he’s a weapon

everyone is hard on "Us"

There isn't a lot of difference between "Us" and "We" ...

Affection and touch can get to "Us" in different ways.

Only certain people or things are allowed to touch "Us"

They are both very physical, just in different ways.

well ... one thing ...

maybe the most dangerous thing, is the loss of identity.

"Us" can hide and blend with everyone.

It's impossible for "Me" to see but they play anyway.

"I" will try very hard to keep "Us" in check, but he can really only watch

"I" can be cold and analytical ... very polite, just ... robotic ..

"We" will naturally work with or do anything, he is focused and quiet, a little too cool about things for his own good.

Sadly he is kind of a work-a-holic, but very unorganized and loses things often. Clumsy, but goal oriented, sometimes comes across as harsh. Not really great with words, but has a good heart.

"I" will ask if "We" can do something, their abilities complement each other pretty well. They can improvise and work together.

Sometimes you'll catch "Me" joking with them if you listen closely.

People are good and bad at different things

it doesn't always make them specifically good or bad in a vacuum ...

but they all know the difference.

The danger of the influence ...

of "The Universe"

and when they all become "Us" .

"The Universe" mocks "Us"

None of them can control "The Universe"

most of them don't care, especially "Me"

except for "Us".

It's where his torment is bred,

He is almost as complex as “Me.”
“Us” is actually amazing,

my favorite one, often,

well,

besides "Me"

He sings and dances with "Me"

but he is missing parts,

he needs a person.

He will grasp at anything that will hold him.

Man, woman, animal ... sometimes even clothing or vehicles

whatever compulsion is in fashion that week.

Sometimes cool, fun, in love with "Me", but unrequited

He is poisoned often unknowingly,

infectious, charismatic ...

When he doesn't have one he is vulnerable, empathetic and naïve.

He turns to "The Universe" to try and understand.

This is a problem.

When he loves who “Me,” and “I” choose,
“We” all get along—
I'm in sync and it's beautiful,

they all love "Me" just in different ways.

Whoever you are ...

whatever you are ...

but…

Because "The Universe" hates "Me"

it wants "Me" to die

and that can't happen,

that destroys everyone.

"Us" can be transitional, the only one besides "Me" who can speak over anyone, but he is easily manipulated by "The Universe"

"I" can't let them get to "Me"

"We" won't let them get to "Me"

"The Universe" mocks "Us" and wants to play with "Me"

To manipulate "Me"

I know when I speak I sound nothing like any of them,

it doesn't matter how hard we try.

I don't know what I'm supposed to sound like.

Sometimes I get pictures.

Sometimes they aren't so good.

I’ve always wanted to be important—
for something,
to someone.

"I" wanted to be one of the best things
that ever happened to someone,
and to be with one of the best things
that ever happened to "Me".

It didn’t matter if "We" were a dog.
"I" could still be loyal.
Caring.
Loving.

This is not Romeo and Juliet.
You are the Dagger for all of "Me"

with "Us" now poisoned—

the omission,

the hiding,

the lying.

In the bed,
nearly dead.

Hiding behind a facade,
brimming with life underneath.

Even tasting the poison from your lips
would not be enough.

You are the Dagger—
"We" will die as your shield.

Every outstretched hand begging
for the touch of your finger,
to trace me from palm to bicep,
pulling "Us" close—
your breath a slight breeze at my neck.

my skin firm with anticipation

"We" can feel it—wincing in delight

You cut "us"—
my heart already bleeding,
and "I" beg for more.

Keep "Me,"

Save "Me" from "The Universe"

and "I" would gladly rest now,

exhausted

without a taste,
but a touch,
of my antidote.