Like a butterfly.

Unpleasant, life has it's ups and downs. Generally, one closely follows the other. A state of limbo is for the medicated, but I am not happy with my own skin.
It seems difficult, existing, but in truth, it's the only thing that we can do.
Existence is nothing but a journey, life is the path from one state of cellular being to the next.
But I feel like I'm just a virus. Infecting, spreading some sort of false theory where I go. But, I feel like I am infected by this virus, and take I've formed some sort of unconscious hive-mind, becoming those which I interact with.

Suffice to say, this causes a large amount of psychological confusion, a constant adaptation of thought and personality. Conflicting morals and ideals. Underlying all this is the knowledge that I may never know who I am.

But I am prepared to make choices, some irreversible, some temporary, to create some sort of idea or concept of who I am.

By looking into a mirror, all I see is a face that does not fit, a body that is out of place, with a mind and soul that is never correctly portrayed.
There are times I feel like a thief of skin. Like I've taken what does not belong to me, and my host shall be dumped and replaced whenever it becomes undesirable.

But, this is undesirable, partly because it is not what I want, and partly because it's just not mine. However, the idea of body-swapping is not something that current science can achieve (Or will achieve in our lifetimes, as it violates several human rights). I suppose all I can do is alter my body until it becomes something I'll be complacent with.

But, my mind is still infected, my dreams arn't mine, my hopes arn't mine, who I want to be, what I want to be, I find it hard to choose one life to follow, because, within this hive-mind, I'm not secluded to one soul.

But this is how it is, how it's always been.
But I'll never be used to this,
At worse, I'm completely corruptible, at best, I'm simply misplaced.

And I would take any solution presented to me.
Because this isn't enjoyable.