In some ways, I am uncommonly advanced. This is true, really, of everyone. Uniquely. In other ways, I am incredibly immature. For all my power to love, I also want to destroy. For all the urgency of my care, I also feel the urge to attack. I am alive. Conflicted. Parts of me are ancient. Other aspects are childlike, or even petulant. I struggle in the storm to find the true way, or become it. It is not ‘positive’. It is not ‘negative’. It is vital, alive, and will -not kow-tow to your expectations- about me or who I ‘should’ be. If you want something soft and dependable, you’ll find me with teeth. Be clear. I am myself, not your projection. I am transferal.