I often wonder if I cut open a cross-section of your skull, what I would find. I wonder if your crazy thoughts have changed the color of your brain, if rather than red blood and grey matter, you have chartreuse wandering through your veins, if the matter has developed stripes. I wonder if the shape has changed, if your struggles to understand the world through the lens of your illness has made it contort into a different form.

Sometimes I wish I could see what you see. But, I think I’d take the coward’s way out if offered the chance.