4 february

i was being so happy until it all came unravelled: a dot floating buoyant and redly in the great grey gel of the ocean; a hiccup in the downpour. there is a price to freedom, a haunting ache that accompanies being bloomed and newly uncaged.

it was never supposed to be this way. but it is, and so we remove and rearrange and reheal.

no matter how many ripped-up hearts have been unconsciously mutilated by my naivety, i have always considered myself a human, and as an exceptional specimen of how the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy describes human beings: "mostly harmless".

mostly harmless, my foot. humans are dangerous, dangerous creatures. (perhaps this is why God chooses to conceal: because of our great capacity to love, but also to destroy.)

when my mind is piled with too many richnesses, my body cries: abort! abort! and shuts down. i disintegrate into a muddy pool of blackness; my weak unbrave subconscious flies to the first available 'out': and i faint.

that phone call: i felt like i was reading a cheap novel, wavering mildly along until smack! jab! the plot twist that rips and garbles one's stomach into a thick tangle of muscle and weeds! it was one too many bricks in the building, and i fainted.

i was the opposite of wholesome, falling facefirst into the soft white mattress of love: but rather peeled open and turned inside out, drunk and digested by a thick plural blackness. i felt heavy, like solid gold: like the tombcasket of an egyption emperor, poured into, filled with, death. so i crawled into a tiny tiny mostly-harmless ball and crawled like a shot animal into the cramped blank corner of the closet. Only i am not the one who is shot: i am demented, the one who is shooting. i filled my back with the wall, with the scratchy blue paint, and i closed my eyes.

and i cried. i cried for j----, and for j---, and for this bent-up game of love; for the soft young hearts which crack their necks against the tides, who invariably remember that it isn't a game after all, and retreat into the dark safety of their closets.