im wearing all green on top like a plant, different colors of green. and black leggings like the roots of a plant underground, in darkness. breathing deep into the sides of my lungs, my side body. im okay if i think of myself as a plant. a tender little thing that's also strong and wild whose powers of knowledge and intuition are indescribable by the human tongue. in my brain today, in my body, behind a counter, operating a piece of machinery to make espresso, i was drifting violently thru oscillations of feeling. like A FREEDOM when you realize the kind of hate you feel for yourself is both valid and invalid (almost a joke. the way i hate myself is almost a joke it is so trite, so cliche) and thus you can transcend it. because everything i hate about myself is what i was made to hate! it's not even my hate to have. my hate for my disgusting female body, like an animal, doesn't know how to be sexy, shameful and embarrassing either way - if i try to hide it, if i try to show it. that's not even mine! that comes when i see through only a certain eye, a withering and empty eye that is annihiliation's eye. I don't even have an eye when i see myself. wheni see myself it is warm, safe, dark with light shining through, like sun coming through your eye lid. i can live inside this disgusting body and through this secret sun-warmed eyelid i see myself as whole and beautiful and my body free of connotation. the hate i feel for my quietness, my weak and trembling girl voice, my intonations that are the intonations of a girl, insecure and hesitating, i hate them, but if i can hate them, and do them, and keep doing them, maybe that;s how you transcend. like,, you don't realize once and for all that you "are" beautiful and acceptable and whole; you live yourself ugly and disgusting and afraid, but you keep living, and you realize whatever you are is all you have, and beautiful doesn't matter anymore, is not even applicable, but then the thing you are turns into enough when you arent looking. Â Â in my sun warmed eyelid i am like a plant a yarrow plant with all these tiny creamy flowers in bunches spreading out holding together smelling like moths and cat pee and honey blowing in some wind on some cliff over the pacfic ocean. i think ocean yarrow is the best yarrow. im a plant and i can't even tell how my roots are connected to many many other things. there is no me but a tiny point in a net, a web, glowing and holding between other points but when you try to fix on a point too long you go into the blackness the space where all things fall
i want to stop fixating onmy own individuality i want to engage from an understanding that i am just a point of convergence of histories and contexts but only existing in relation there is no self that is separate this does not make the connected self any less sacred or unique which is what i am afraid of because i believe myself to be a social failure and if i believe that we are constituted by our relations with others i feel empty and worthless becausei judge my relations with others to be inadequate butÂ
if i think of all the people i love who have made me, who have made me in a counterspell to annihilation's eye, who have loved me then i feel overwhelmed by joy when i think of the faces of those people when i breathe in and out through my whole body like a plant when i am stretching im crying because they are so beautiful and they get to be in my web and they are beautiful because they are real and because we love each other and have made each other, a part of us is each other and no matter how trite this sounds it is also true and it means i am never alone.
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