i wash my face and marvel that water doesn't penetrate my skin. i feel so liquid, but the reflection in... Read More
i wash my
face and marvel that water doesn't penetrate my skin. i feel so liquid, but the
reflection in the mirror tells me otherwise. i take soap, and it seems so
heavy, but maybe it's the heaviness of my hand. i still can't get used to it. i
can't wash my hair. i climb the stairs like a huge drop; maybe i'm sinking
through the steps. oppressive silence throughout the house, but only in my room
does it not seem unbearable.
i smell the
stench of decaying snails that i buried in the yard. one choked in the water
jar while trying to drink. i push away a silly thought that makes me want to
laugh. the others died from my sadness. nothing changes. when the day ends, i
can't understand how much time has passed, but the absence of snow outside
gives me a clue. dates on the calendar are like hieroglyphs in another
language. time is irrelevant, but ignoring it is impossible.