human disqualification
mine has been a life of much shame.
just kidding. by the way, was anybody else that type of child that would pretend to drown to see if anyone cared? and the funny thing is, i would hold my head underwater and float like a leaf or a plastic bottle for so long that i, very ironically, would almost drown for real. now i want people to know just how much i am suffering every single day of my life. whether im five feet under or fifty. but i don't want to grow to hate other human beings for their inattentiveness.
i continued to squirm and rock and buzz around like an alcoholic mosquito. my eyes felt funny. sooner or later, every day will be this tiresome. i wouldn't dare to inconvenience others with my hunger like this. the realization that i couldn't be saved anymore didn't hit me like a truck. it hit me like... 5 trucks, all at different but unpredictable intervals. and when i got hit, i found myself struggling to hide all the wounds, staggering and crouching on the ground. i made sure not to look the driver in the eye, but they always insist. it's disgusting.
usually i'm fine five minutes after. it is more or less my desire to be looked after, doted on like i'll break down at any moment. that was another disgusting thing. i hated being scrutinized, but i wanted to be watched over like the way god does—both how we view god and how he views us. i never wanted my stitches to get forcefully sewn up for me, i'd much rather let it secretly fester beneath my skin. everybody, won't you please be enamoured with how beautiful my pain is? it's the least you can do, since it's all there really is.
whatever would my life be like if i wasn't like this? you're not yourself without your fair share of heartache. this is my cross to bear. just the notion of existing is a burden greater than myself. it made me feel quite hungry—but for what exactly? 'it' would make itself known one way or another, and i often wondered what faces everybody would show if i presented this overflowing emptiness to them. i thought about their faces twisting into something grotesque. i thought about my stitches opening for everyone to see. clearly, i thought about too much, as always.