Parts

I am on a strenuous uphill hike to integrate.

I have felt like there were too many cooks in my kitchen for a very long time.

There’s Trudy, the micromanaging hypocritical personal assistant from hell.

The Punk: the reactive, angry, explosive inciting egomaniac the easy girl, people pleasing sex stemming overly sexual wet hole lizard brain.

The Little Girl: in there somewhere and been playing a game of hide and seek for years, but no one is actually looking for her. Here they are together morphing, battling for center and loud.