whenever i take psychedelics i like to stare at myself in the mirror. i don’t do it in self adoration. i’m watching myself morph into the truth. my face stops being human and becomes something more familiar. my eyes are the main thing that change, always the eyes. they turn into something different and perfect and i am shown what i am meant to be.

being human has never felt like home. the veins and the flesh and the bones and the consciousness are all too real for me like i’ve been shoved into life without the instruction book. when that weight drops, even slightly, i’m left in a state where i’m not just a body and a soul reacting to what’s outside me. 

i wonder if i lean into this longing to mutate into that version of me by wearing my cosmetic contact lenses. they change my face. other people sense a change too when i wear them, even if they don’t know why. 

i know why they do, it’s biochemical. 

it’s the same concept as to why humans want to protect babies with their disproportionate unblinking eyes. they can’t help it, their psyche mutates before their thought arrives and they feel themselves warming. then there’s the people who don’t feel that, but they know there’s something off and they can’t quite articulate why. they don’t necessarily warm to it, but at the same time they keep looking. 

either way i like to look uncanny, less human more creature. whatever way people look at me wearing them they know there is something off.

i like it. it creates a kind of entry point that bypasses typical human perception. it feels right.  i’m hacking their brains without them realising. i’m already there in their head before they know it. it’s also about me, about how it feels inside; i exist slightly outside the frame of normal interaction and impressions. 

i will accept my human nature and form, but i’d much rather sit slightly off-centre where the version of me they see isn’t something they can ever fully pin down, where i’m still me but not fully her.