What happened this year can’t have happened to me.
Those kinds of things happen to other people, not me.
When I discuss it or analyse it or rationalize it,
I do it for them, not me.
When I think about what happened it’s another person, not me.
When I think about what I feel it’s a different body, not mine.
When I go for the check ups and joke
(Oh, It’s me again!)
It’s not me.
Because those things happen to other people, not me.
Because those memories can live with them.
And not me.