I have always desperately wanted to be treated asexually, by men and women, girls and boys alike. It makes me feel so uncomfortable to be made aware that I am ‘female’. Yesterday was warm, I went outside bare-legged in a skirt, and by the time I got home I was wretched.
I forget. I forget that when you gain weight, all of a sudden you are a being of flesh, an XX chromosome in the skin with all the potential the othereyes can imagine, and the looks you get are not of appall or seethe, but of a different kind. I forget that you can’t wear a skirt when you have the flesh of a woman, and not the skin and shadows of a girl.
I feel filthy and like a monster in the fleshcage and I want to fleshfade, and I feel like I want to tear my thighs away from the bones that would make me a person, not a woman, not a female, not an object. The muscles and fat that make me significant. The calcium foundations that make us equal, that make me insignificant, unseen.
Scurrying needles enter my vision and the television of life shakes.
I thought I had forgotten completely about you, and what came was the excruciating equivalence of a freight train destined to collide with the center of my core.
His touch is warm, like soft velvet and he lets out the gentle whisper of a feline purr. I’m lost in this for a moment; my mind stays hooked to these caresses my body hasn’t felt in so long - but only for a moment.
Get up. Get out. Just suck suck suck suck back that blazing fire and take a breather.
And there it is, I can see what is happening now clear as the new day after a storm.
The impact from the collision takes the breath right from my lungs as if it wasn’t mine to have. I’m trapped in place, my feet are pinned to the ground and I lean against the fence for support.
I beg and grovel to push your face from my mind, you were the purpose behind my wants and needs and everything I’ll always be and now I’m nothing but empty hands and a nicotine fiend.
But I stand up, just like I always do.
Do you remember when not speaking lingered in our bones and radiated through our joints?
Do you remember everything hurting because it felt too good?
You can’t think productively and you cry when it’s over because everything just becomes numb and you thank God for that because all that emotion just
eats and eats and eats and eats and eats and eats and eats and eats and eats
and ruins you but you love it but you despise it but you keep longing for more.
It doesn’t hurt anymore, and yet I continue to cry.
It means your effect is wearing thin, that bittersweet and irrevocable grasp is weathering away. Something I never in all my wildest dreams would have hoped for and yet as I feel it happen I drop to my knees in rapture - wide eyed and smiling.
“I am my own God. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”—Charles Bukowski