in the hospital, it was as if i was suddenly suspended.
the motion around me did not stop, but i did.
i did not get a sense of being left out of the picture-
rather, for the first time, the picture was me.
i was 12 years old when i first remember thinking to myself,
“i wish i had a bigger butt”.
i believe that for some reason, i have a very close connection with the universe.
i know that when i ask,
be it within reason,
i shall receive.
as i grew, my body grew.
my body grew, and i did not like it.
“I’ve changed my mind,” i told the universe.
but the universe did not listen.
i found a few diet books.
i found a few recipes.
i found a new exercise.
but i did not find my old body.
on the inside, i was a child
but on the outside i was a woman
the dissonance was fraying my edges.
i felt as if i were standing in an old tv screen during an electric storm.
i picked away at my food.
i picked away at my body.
i grabbed a toothbrush and prostrated before a toilet
i bent at the knees and buckled at the spine.
“out, out damned spot!”
when i arrived in the hospital, i felt like a child.
i was so happy.
i wanted to be a child.
i wanted to be happy.
i thought they would help me be a better child
but instead they conquered me.
they made me more woman than i ever have been.
and i cried for months.
my old body was a young body.
but my new body is an old body.
i just want my image to be a reflection of myself
i want to be the child i am.
so if alcohol kills the liver
and smoke kills the lungs,
then where does my childhood strike?
why does everyone else get to self destruct but me?