The constant, instant shifting of moods, from cold to furious to hysterical to morose to indifferent to composed to frighteningly chipper. Silence, tears, shouts, angry trembling, Stepford smiles, quizzical eyebrow raises, laughter, all jumbled, mixed, in sequence, in reverse.
The only reasonable unreasonable explanation is that there’s a tag team made up of parts of myself with different temperaments. Detached yet inseparable. I do wonder, when one takes a hit, who gets hurt?