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Numbers, always damn numbers when I get tired, when I feel my spoke loosen from hard facts and the logical circuits that govern reality. I slip into numerals, a psuedo-clad weave that underlines all of what makes up what we consider truth and gospel 

[Guess this makes it tranny schizo post no.1]

Flowering geometrical patterns between eyeblinks, flowing charts governing emotion, feelings, intent and fears as colored and different weighted numbers that their hues divine them into separate mathematic processes 

I used to fear liminality when I was a child, terrified when I woke up the new me would be a farce replica of the yesterthoughts self. Then it happened, I woke up and all the parts were the same but the configuration was off, then again and again while I tried to force myself into a co tinous chain at the start once I accepted that I was changing constantly but it wasn't a destructive conjuction occurring, it was growth, growth isn't discovering one's self it's the creation of something entirely new, and thats why it's scary once the addition is added to the grande sum you can't return for better or worse.

For now, sincerely yours: 

Sanzabooku the Maid.