All That Remains Is To Sign the Papers

It occurs to me to divorce my own personality On the grounds of irreconcilable differences. No hurt feelings – just let it go its own way And leave me in peace, at home in my head. Of course, one problem is that without it I would be rather alone in here, rattling around As a solitary resident of this too solid flesh That everyone seems to recognize as me. I really don’t mind living alone, you know. I’m sure I would get more accomplished Without the tangled and inappropriate doings Of my banished psyche – sleep better, too. To tell the truth, the division of property Would not be much of an ordeal – together, We seem not to have acquired much of value. And there aren’t any children – just lots of books. My mother will likely suggest counseling first, Just to make sure before we make it official. But God knows we’ve been in therapy for years. The medication helps some – but not enough. So…divorce it is. I’m looking forward to the quiet. My personality causes way too much commotion. At my age, I deserve to have peace in my own home. But it will be strange not to have anyone to talk to. Perhaps we can remain friends after a while, When the divorce is final, and I’ve had some time To think about my personality’s positive qualities. Realistically, though, that hardly ever works out.