For the third time that day, I rounded a corner and slammed straight into Max, coming from the opposite direction. My thoughts scattered; my attention stumbled. For the third time that day, she glared at me.

You're such a clutz, Emily! You're outta control. This is why I should be in charge!

In all respects, Maxine and I were divergent personalities. She preferred the masculine contraction of her full name. She was bold, aggressive, and domineering. Our strengths shone in different hemispheres - I was the creative one, into Arts and the Humanities, and she was the intellectual, a Maths and Physics fiend... although I preferred to imagine her as calculating and manipulative.

Since our first run-in, I had ruled the hallways of one campus; she had ruled the other. We lived separate lives of dysfunction, each following our own pathway. At times those paths met, rather explosively. Today was one such day.

Exam season was upon us. The prospect of another F in Psychology brought sleepless nights. Personally, I felt my deep questioning and analysis of Freud warranted an A, but who was I to argue with my professors about my obsession with digressing. I was exhausted... and stressed. In that state, I sometimes turn left when I should be turning right. And that is usually when we encounter each other... I take a wrong turn, find myself going down an unknown passage and bang... just when my mental faculties are least prepared to withstand her onslaught... there she is... again!

Max... could we not do this now, please.

I tried staring her down; trying to exude confidence. I tried.

Max sneered at me.

Well look here - if it isn't Miss Perfect asking me for a favour... that will be the day!

...she snipped.

Max, I need to focus. I have a lot going on this evening.

Pleading seldom worked with her - she was rarely in a benevolent mood with me. But I had to try something... anything - I desperately needed to stay grounded and retain my hold.

Listen here, Emily. You crossed over into my territory. You are the one trespassing. It's your transgression... so nope... I think I may just stick around for a bit and see what you have planned. This should be fun!

Her face lit up, then at once contorted. Cackles and jeers echoed through the hallways of my mind as she invaded my space once again and took control of my evening. My surrender was involuntary in the end - I felt impotent to withstand the force of her more dominant character, as I fell under her spell.

Whatever she willed, happened. I was along for the ride, like it or not. Too often I had awoken, a complete wreck from the night before's shenanigans, armpits scented with day-old hard-tack, clothes reeking of stale cigarettes. The irony? I had never touched alcohol or smoked before Max had arrived on the scene. Her influence was palpable.

In the early hours of the morning I dragged myself to the bathroom where I spent an hour throwing up in the toilet bowl. Max had disappeared. I was very much present and in deep trouble. There was no way that I was in any state to write Psych 101. I crawled back into bed; a sorrowful state of affairs. I cursed the day I had laid eyes on Max.

I had tried to escape her so many times but she loitered in the shadows, ready to grab any opportunity to shine. Her presence was a conundrum in this phase of my life.

As I lay there, my thoughts turned existential. Max and I were both distinct persona existing disparately within the contours of my mind. I was only aware of her emergence as she took over... then it was all a blur... a blackout...I gleaned everything I knew from those moments of transition as I grappled for dominance on the virtual wrestling mats of my mind. It was a fight that had been ongoing since I was twelve.

I had blocked out most of that year and the experiences of my life before that. My therapist wanted me to unlock the door to those memories; to stand face-to-face with them and to deal with them. But I knew that would never happen. I had long since thrown away the key and had no desire to go in search of it... ever. But if I could not deal with my past, I knew I had Max to deal with in my present and future.

I wondered if the experience felt the same for Max. Who was the real me? Was I Emily, the first Id, the first Ego of which I was consciously aware? Or was I the more dominant personality, breaking through from time to time - the one that always endured when we went head-to-head? Was I Max?

When I took my last breath at the end of my life, who would prevail? As Emily, I had accepted Christ and been baptised. Would that me enjoy the resurrection? Or would my alter ego be the one to represent me at death's door, and remove all hope of salvation for me?

Max and I were very unlike each other. She was non-committal. In her orb of existence, she lived life on the fence. Science warred with religion. A brilliant mind, she lived on the fringes of both worlds, constantly exploring, learning, and never coming to a definitive conclusion. Instead, she preferred to treat life as the ultimate game of cat and mouse, to be lived to its full... for passion and pleasure to be pursued alongside pain. She pushed every boundary and challenged the commandments of old... She experimented with life constantly: everything from teenage substance abuse to menage-a-trois with partners across the divide.

I had nightmares about it.

How ironic it was that in the quiet hours of the night we would meet intimately in the conversion of short to long-term memory; and that it was then that the intricacies of our separate existences came to light.

The illusion of self constantly ripped me apart. All I could hold onto as I stared into the darkness, was a distant and faint hope, and the one constant in my life; the one thing over which I had no illusions - my faith.