Much has been said by the venomous tongues of the act of loving myself, and so I walked all over streets and hangars seeing the impression that I made on people and I arrived at the inevitable conclusion. I am sure some would like to hear it and some would like to make assertions about my conditions based on the factoids I collected. Instead, what I decided was to go back home, fold myself into a nice little bed, and wait for life to pass me by.
“How sexy the times change, each year that I go through I become hotter,” I’m told and I understand the implication immediately. I hug my pillow and know that I am expected to change with the times, who do not relate to me, to relate to other people, who should be accepting of these times.
“It is very troubling, this era, unlike the previous ones which I did not live in nor experienced,” and though I am learning in the act of being attractive, by wearing satin lingerie in my sloppily integrated hairy, unshaved body. There were little twings, strange pulsing, throbbing whirling tingles in my body which unnaturally corresponded with the general atmosphere of the outside world that had forced me to hide: revolts and hangings, rioting and looting, fire in banks, in companies, in my loins.
I become attuned to the idea that perhaps there is something to be made of my self-esteem. Maybe if I try to keep the wonders that had awaken in me and apply them more organically and proportionally across the entire spectrum of my actions, I can do something of myself, something worthy, and lovely. But even beyond that, I want someone to give me the question I had longed for only my entire waking life: “What do we do with you?”
After getting out of bed and facing a lifetime of disappointments in my memories, I thought of my own body and attitude in the most resolute way possible, an eternal passage of clothes torn and thrown away, a bunch of haircuts unruly to the laws of taste, and a movement of my limbs that is better orientated to swallow, whether lies, food, or else.
The first person who greets me as I dare to present my person to the world was so mordant and trivial that I immediately go back to the safety of my home. My friend, of course who both supports me and secretly wishes for my happiness, laughs at my indiscretion and leaves the premises. I am on my own to try it again.
“They will laugh or cry or scream,” I say to my friend but we both shake our heads since it sounds so unbelievable. We both leave shelter but my friend disappears immediately. My body cannot hold down its cravings no more, I need to be accepted, cherished, and frightened and the origin of these emotions must come from a matter of self-realization, acceptance, and sarcasm to avoid painful realizations. The mind is fragile as is the station of me, who is where most people will appear to learn about the superficial creature before getting to know who I can really be whoever that is.
The second person I meet stays with me for a while even as I shake and wish to divert my attention to myself.
“What can I do for you?” I’m asked suddenly and I cannot help but smile, to myself only, and think that it is beautiful because it is something I do not expect.