Pushed away: Dandelions

It resists the female register wherever it meets it, in other people and in itself, and the resistance has an exhausted quality because the thing being pushed against is not outside. A mother who moved in rather than raised, feeding on the child's attention and installing her own commentary where the child's should have been, leaves a person whose inner voice is partly somebody else's, and the body tends to carry what the argument cannot resolve. What it asks for is to separate one opinion that is genuinely its own from one that was issued.

Half of what I think in my own voice turns out to be hers.

It echoes the dybbuk stories, in which a voice not belonging to the person speaks out of their mouth and has to be addressed by name before it will consent to leave. The form implies a task: to name it, and to notice how much quieter the room is afterwards.