The split.

This week I am two people.

One of me is a basket case, filthy, lost, prone to extreme outbursts of emotion, shoulder slumped, jittery, and nauseous. Meanwhile the other me has not given up on taking showers, maintains self control when in public, is easy to laugh, fluid, calm, and hungry.

One of me finds packing tape attached to my elbow. The other me finds clothes that match.

One of me spends the spare moments in an exhausted broken daze. The other me plans teas and farewell parties in any remaining moment.

One of me can barely force the hot tears from spilling down over my face. The other me jokes with staff and students and grins for class pictures while squinting in the sun.

One of me has a running list of things to put in boxes. The other me sits with a nun in a crumbling room and chats in Tibetan and tries on her clothes.

One of me cannot see through my own shattered fragments. The other me goes out looking for the beggar children who have a tendency to hug my legs from behind as I buy milk for them.

One of me stoops to pack the kitchen things. The other me plans to host a pizza party.

One of me cannot choke food down and has a constantly upset stomach. The other me is starving and happily agrees to accompany anyone to meals.

One of me has hands that are black with dust and busy frantically scoring exams. The other me watches the World Cup with glee.

One of me has a ceaseless plea for mercy on my lips. The other me absentmindedly hums "standing on the promises".

One of me despairs. The other me hopes.

One of me cracks. The other me clings.

One of me loses. The other me wins.

The only thing the two mes have in common is that neither are getting enough sleep.