what does it feel like?
it’s summer and my closest friends are out of town, i have no ambition to do anything and i feel far away and hate myself.
i eat exclusively vegan indian that i try to make and fruit. lots of fruit. i love fruit in the summer.
i feel large and puffy. i feel bloated. i feel fat is a way to say it, which is not PC anymore to say but oh well that’s what i feel. it’s not about you.
the way i hate myself is interesting bc i feel far away from myself. i have surface level thoughts in conversations. when people greet me, i tell myself to smile. i smile big walking down the hall at work, carrying my folders and little tupperware i have filled with highlighters. i know it is important to show strength. i am not scared to be vulnerable, i just cannot access vulnerability anymore. n says i am guarded and i have walls but i don’t even notice. i can’t imagine they possibly want me without any. i am a mass of unconnected gore without them. it’s not sweeter, i’m sure.
the other night we talked on the bayou after sunset. i crossed my legs over theirs and we drank pampelmouse soda. we talked about parents and age and ex-lovers and the stars (hypothetically, we could not see them). the air was like eden-air: just perfect. like a movie set. so comfortable it couldn’t be real. we ate leftover indian in the kitchen. i washed my feet in their gritty tub and as i climbed into their king size bed to cuddle and eat cookies, i felt so happy. i told them, “i feel so happy right now” bc i know i am hard to read. but i was worried that my telling them would make them feel like i was dependent on them. or that i liked them too much. i am so tired of playing games to keep lovers interested. i am so tired.
other “important” 😉 updates:
i am really worried that i am not smart anymore. i can’t seem to access deeper thoughts. i can’t remember a lot of facts.
i can’t have sex anymore. i feel far away. my body responds: i get wet, i am able. i writhe around and moan in a hopefully convincing manner. i perform, but for what. when i can see that a person enjoyed me, i feel taken advantage of. i feel used instead of feeling glad that i was able to provide pleasure for someone. it makes no sense. this isn’t me.
graybie nearly killed this dragonfly. i set it on the gate and in the morning he was still there, clinging desperately. he clung all night. he lived in terror all night. no one noticed. he flew away, he survived. but he will die for real one day. until then, we cling. we remember the clinging; it shapes us.