for jq
I slap the door and carelessly throw myself outside. I keep my stride perfect; it’s all I have. Heels clapclapclap on the pavement, and I imagine that it’s my audience, watching my every move.
My clothes hang limply. They shadow the fluid movements of this human body of mine: a body that used to be human. I sweat, and I want to rip all of this off, but I can’t. I still shiver beneath them. Instead, I adjust the jewelry around my shrunken wrists, pull my sleeves down and grip the hems with my hands, and let my mind sink to a colder place.
I stare straight ahead, straight faced, straight backed, but inside, my mind doubles over. Vomiting memories all over the floor of my mind’s field of view, she shrieks with relief as I adopt her burdens for the present moment. I watch myself as a happy child. I watch my slender bones grow tall. I see explosions, I see confusion. I see love. I see heartbreak. I watch my body gain curves, I watch myself hide them. I see the idiocy in my trying to become something I never could be. And I see myself looking in the mirror.
I feel my eyes move to my small breasts, and I remember the envy I felt for all the girls who were better equipped. Now, I saw how beautiful I was then. I was changing. This was the beginning of my metamorphosis.
Soon I land at just last night, and my mind gasps for breath as I watch myself. I strip down to nothing, throwing my clothes carelessly along the floor. The shower water runs, but I stand, yet again in front of a mirror, yet again sizing myself up. I move from my toes to my ankles to my legs to my hips to my stomach to my ribs to my breasts to my shoulders to my arms to my wrists to my disgusting little fingertips, making mental notes of everything I need to amputate. I stare at my face, counting the deformities. I pull on my hair, willing myself to hurt. I will myself to feel.
I turn away from my silly memories and focus instead on the oncoming traffic. I debate staying in the middle of this road. I contemplate just lying down and waiting. Instead, I imagine this crosswalk as a runway, and I keep cat-walking.
I pull keys from my pocket, and I have to force myself to make the whole unlocking turn. I turn the doorknob slowly. I am exhausted.
I collapse on an armchair. My bones melt slowly into the cushions, and I shiver. Is this what life is? Forgetting the cancer, forgetting the death, forgetting the pain, forgetting the hunger? Forgetting? What else do I have that I can think of? What else do I know?
And then I hear a whimpering. A scratch on metal. I lift myself and walk over, peering in. I crouch down to her level, recognizing a reflected sorrow in her amber eyes. I unlatch the cage, and open it slowly.
She stumbles out, and jumps lightly into my lap. I pet her softly. She licks my fingers, biting gently. I feel my first smile of the day creep across my face, and I swear she beamed right back at me.
