stillborn

Keeping a smile pasted on my face as my heart stops beating for you -- I had forgotten what this feeling felt like.

It's funny, because all I remember from the day when it happened with you four years ago were the leaves in the sky. The California sky was cloudless and blue. The sunlight made the green tapered leaves look translucent. That's the only image I have of that moment -- a picture so pretty and pristine, while inside, I felt as if my world had just opened up and swallowed me whole.

But I remember that feeling so clearly at this very moment. I had forgotten how it felt, the way your blood seems to curdle in your head and yet you suddenly feel as if your body is not your own. A part of you is really probably trying to escape, because once again, you've just confirmed again that you're an undesirable little fuck passed over for a cute little thing. You're the scrappy doberman nobody at the animal shelter wants to adopt. They don't want the scary one. They want the cute little bichon frise that'll rest her little head on their laps and feed out of the palm of their hand.

The funny thing is, I didn't expect I would experience this feeling ever again. But even though it's not you at the center of this stillborn fantasy this time around, the sickness is just as strong as it was before. Tear off my limbs, sew new parts until I'm not who I am anymore. Give me a new face, a new body, cut me up until I'm unrecognizable. Because sometimes, I don't even recognize myself anymore.