I am a shapeshifter, a chameleon. A talent perhaps leaned as a small child with a wish to survive. Drinking the energy and intent of another person however is a dangerous game. Assimilation into a culture requires pouring out some of yourself from the vessel of your soul and brining in the hot black sludge of someone else. The clay structure that houses the soul is quite fragile. Soon the skin under the eyes blacken. Stress lines crawl across the face like rivers carving through the skin. A sinking feeling overtakes. Pressure is all around in the darkness. The light of true self is drown in the thick viscous elixer. Taking on more and more. The cup houses less and less of my soul.

Until one day a desion must be made. To beg forgiveness for lying to myself and pour out the cup, so that I may return to me. To breath again through unencumbered lungs. My heart will pump clean blood and not the adulterated slime that once course my veins killing me in every moment.

Eyes widen as I finally allow my soul to exhale my true self… I am learning to accept my shape, my formatting, my design. Perhaps one day I can accept sharing light and positive energy and more shapeshifters will surrender to themselves.