am i scared of myself?
how does it feel to be whitewashed and have a vitamin D deficiency because your body was built for hotter weather? my body was built for working in the fields, cutting grass for the cow. it was built for playing hide and seek behind the village huts. i used to have muscles but they’ve escaped me; i used to be contoured but now i’m just bones. bones that are looking for a home and a fire and some boiled rice. bones that are uneasy from their lack of sleep because of the raging storm outside. i hate the winter because it’s as cold as my heart; it’s relentless and you think that hot chocolate might cure it but it doesn’t. you’re mistaken year after year as you misjudge how early it gets dark and the squelch of muddy socks in your boots fades away from your memory...and then it falls on you. it lands in drops and expands on your raincoat. you fumble with the tag and say, “it says showerproof!”. but not even humans are showerproof, or at least my bones aren’t. who do I blame for this lack of resilience? is it my DNA, is it my body, or my brain? that same brain buzzes my mother tongue to me in the night, badgering me to stay awake. it blows truth into my eyes like salty water and springs tears as pure as himalayan rivers. that same brain that hums wedding tunes and wraps me in shawls until my hands shake and i whimper, “too much, too much!”. but am i expelled by the smell or am i scared of the seizure? what seizure? the one that grapples my throat and grins with teeth of gold. it cackles “you’ll never be this or that, you’ll just be kind of both”. it torments me as i toss and turn, wrapped in soggy sheets. are they shawls? am i expelled by the smell of panic and sweat? am i scared of myself?