I suddenly feel unbelievably, unreasonably tired. Everything about me is heavy, and a cigarette tip slowly burns a hole in my belly. I can see the smoke rise in the darkness, curling into wisping shapes before sliding silently through the ceiling.
And I know that I won’t sleep for a long while.
Sometimes I lie down and get situated and then the remote stares at me mercilessly from across the room. Star Wars beckons.
But no matter how badly I desire, no matter how strong my wish or how many fallings stars I clasp my hands under, no power on earth other than my own will deliver that plastic rectangle into my hands.
It’s funny. The way we sit still and fixate on what we desire, knowing full well that will never result in our having it.
Fuck people you care about sometimes.
Like can you just be happy all the time so I don’t have to die inside?
Why don’t you know
How much it hurts
To know that you look in the mirror and see
When I look at you
And I see so much
So much ability
So much capacity for joy and love.
Why can’t you recognize how much bright you are responsible for in people’s lives?
The person gaining weight on the couch hardly leaving their room is not who you are.
It’s what you’re doing right now.
Which is good.
Because I know who you are,
And when that’s what you do,
You’ll be unstoppable.
Censorship was something I learned.
When I was a child, I bathed in the same tub as my cousins and sometimes went into the bathroom with relatives when they had to go. For us, bodies were bodies, regardless of gender, regardless of age.
Now I cover myself even before my own mother, the woman of whose flesh I am made, and my sister, who I used to bathe with, is embarrassed to change in front of me.
Why do we teach ourselves a shame that we aren’t born with? Why is it so difficult for me to get out from under this stigma?