We tend to have our life path laid out for us to a large degree at first
or at least you feel the trail or way is set but then a time comes when there is nothing pushing you to do one thing or another and you just have you and your thoughts and your self and that is super uncomfortable for a lot of people including myself
My girlishness has sharp teeth. In May, my laughing spleen resembles the limits of the world: It feels impossible to get out of bed.
The aim here (hypothetically) is to have everything at once: Double. Bipedal. Bisexual. Wings.
Yes, nothing can stop someone from nailing someone else’s body to a bedpost, but I’m tired of sounding like a bell and this day feels like a thousand years. Too much pollen in the air.
I grow another baby in a petri dish and watch my hair fall out. In the not body, I cut the tongue and make room for something to grow—
The problem is bodily— bodily attachment to things like pretzels and duvets. To things that have limits and cannot be, over and over, shared.
Apples and oranges? No, no. Not at all.
It is more like everyone on the bed at the same time, listening to the long winters and what goes through our minds. We can’t put anything in words
and we talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk—
“You tried to change didn’t you? closed your mouth more tried to be softer prettier less volatile, less awake but even when sleeping you could feel him travelling away from you in his dreams so what did you want to do love split his head open? you can’t make homes out of human beings someone should have already told you that and if he wants to leave then let him leave you are terrifying and strange and beautiful something not everyone knows how to love.”
— “For Women Who Are Difficult to Love,” Warsan Shire