last night was the blood moon. it snowed today. i’ve spent the last five hours watching game of thrones. tomorrow at 7am i’m going on a class trip to a cargill slaughterhouse. never in my entire life have i felt death breathing this closely at my shoulder
i skipped lunch so i could put the finishing touches on a 10pg manuscript to submit to the english dept for their annual poetry prizes and i just sent it and immediately realized how fucking starving i am
left the house before remembering i was covering someone’s work shift today; wouldn’t have worn my cute brown suede shoes had i remembered; sure enough i just slopped chem all over myself and now they are probably stained forever :(
i drank an iced coffee at 9pm because i was hot and drowsy and had to work a closing shift and now i’m not tired. it feels like summer. i’m curled on my bed and i suddenly feel like i have so much skin, sticky and still warm from too much sun earlier, a quiet wind from the half-open window brushing against my bare legs, the pillow soft against my cheek. my lips feel sunburnt but not in a bad way: like they’re a little swollen; like they might be a darker color than usual, somewhere between persimmon and pomegranate; like they ought to be kissed.
i feel, for the first time in a very long time, palpably lonely. in winter it’s easy for me to forget i have a body: i turn into layer upon layer of dark clothing, a messy pile of scarves and tights and sweaters, leather jacket like armor, salt-crusted boots that turn my feet into ironshod hooves. i don’t feel my skin; the cold goes straight through it into my bones. winter is six months of fighting the earth, of insulating and isolating, of pretending to be a ghost. then the weather gets nice again and suddenly it’s a revelation of body, skin everywhere, the feeling of dampness underneath my hair at the back of my neck, the taste of my own thirsty tongue. summer is for moving through the air, thrilling in the capability of muscle, being aware of how the world holds you, the unexpected gentleness of air or water, remembering you are alive. summer is when the earth loves you. i always make a joke in springtime about “it’s so nice when the weather isn’t actively trying to kill me,” and it’s true, it’s so true it hurts –– i am taken aback every year when winter relents and the world becomes kind. kindness is so moving to me, i’m so overwhelmed even by small displays of kindness, and whenever i get a taste of it from anywhere i am left reeling and wanting more. when the air touches me kindly and lovingly all i want is more of that. i want friends with bodies that will hold me and cherish me, i want to hold and cherish those bodies in return. i want to swim and sit by fire and feel my skin as a thing that fits me and feel how other people’s skin fits them and fall asleep and wake up feeling that i have been regenerating myself slowly as i sleep. i want to love, to love endlessly, and to be loved.
and in some ways that wanting is worse than the lifeless moonscape of winter. i’m good at feeling nothing. i’m good at closing myself off. it doesn’t hurt to be cold, but it hurts so much to be vulnerable. i am equipped to deal with despair and isolation, but not with loneliness. i don’t like remembering that i have a body and then knowing that i am not able to use it to its fullest. i don’t like remembering that i am starving for kindness, starving for love, starving to feel alive.