Dichotomy

I suppose the good news was that society didn’t collapse after the Great Shift. It was pretty touch-and-go there for a while. We had a suspicion for a while that some sort of psychopath swapped bodies with the President; turns out he was just sort of crazy all along and hadn’t swapped at all. Figuring out who was who through all of it was so wild.

But now it’s three years later and things had settled down. I should be celebrating my 23rd birthday this week, but my doctor tells me I’m technically probably closer to 38 now. Oh, and not just any doctor -- my gynecologist. She tells me that if I want to have kids that I should probably do it soon.

There’s no f*cking way. I’m still getting used to the fact that I’m a woman; there’s no way I want to pop out a baby. And I also still feel 23, despite whatever my actual physical age may be. I still feel much too young. That’s sort of the way the dichotomy of the Great Shift worked -- who you were fighting against who you are. In my case, a young male fighting against a middle aged woman.

I’d still see my reflection sometimes and wonder why I wasn’t there; who was that woman looking back. Even coming home on the subway the other day it happened. I had to remind myself who I was now -- Amy. I had picked that name. I actually never found out anything about the person I swapped in to; hence why my doctor guessed an “estimate” for me. My birthday is this week; I had no clue when hers was.