I wish I could explain to you what it means to live a sacred mystery, something no theology can begin to approximate, something dirtied by such approximations. You will not understand when I say I dream being the universe, or when I awaken feeling banished from eternity. You can only pathologize my differences, drug me up to shut me up. It doesn’t matter that I’m no danger. It only matters how I struggle to obey. Each day I pray to lamotragine for the wisdom to properly intone, “Yes sir, how high, sir?” because my next meal will always depend on it.