at least five times a day, i find myself wishing i was less.
less of a worrier.
less of a lover.
less of a mess.
all of this would be so much better, if the disconnect between
what i want and what i have would close because then things
would be simple for the first time in years. and i could inhale
without wondering what kind of consequences it will have five
minutes from now. you can only imagine what really goes
through my mind in the time it'll take you to breathe in and
out. now hold it. like i've been holding this thought for months—
the girl i was is quickly vanishing.
i've been holding it like a secret on the tip of my tongue afraid of
what the outcome will mean for me but saying it out loud doesn't
dilute the impact it's having on my insides or the way i've been
closing my eyes and trying to pretend it's not true for the better
half of a year because if there is ever one thing that you don't
want to lose it's yourself. but still, i can't sleep this night —
and for the first time, i really did feel less.
my third vertebrae was gone. along with my left ventricle. my
fourth metacarpal. both my lungs and half my arteries. the spaces
between my bones were shifting. and my joints didn't fit together
the way they used to. the things that kept me together were absolutely
disappearing until all i had become is a chaotic array of a skeletal
frame that lacks the proper sort of organization to just stand up already
and a nicotine filled circulatory system that can't disperse anything
so i can't get one silly, stupid notion out of my heart—
that one single moment is all that defines us. so since when i put a name on that list
i changed irrevocably and now i'm stuck missing who i used to be.
i'm all wrong, but somehow i need to be alright.