Thursday, May 2, 2013

salbabida

Would you look down on me if I paid you to kiss me? I hope you do, down the bridge of your nose and at my eyes then my lips and then my chin, my neck, the place where the muscles of my throat segue into my shoulders. I hope that the next scene is the one where you lean down and kiss me and take my money and run.

I am growing stagnant, soon there will be mosquito larvae swimming in the whites of my eyes.  I am calcifying and becoming a tree in a simultaneous and painful process. Here, I shall stand for the next 200 hundred years, eyes blind and limbs unswaying in monsoon winds. Despite the time of day, my leaves will not respond, their stomata shall remain still. I will continue to feel the heat and my sweat will come from my tear ducts and it will burn like a concentrated base, which may burn just like an acid, and this is how I will die. I am shrinking and backing away and I can go whole days in multiples without having conversations. I don't want anyone to touch me. I don't want anyone to be around me. 

But I would like to be kissed once in a while (meaning every other 15 minutes or seconds, whatever is more convenient for you). I like kisses a lot, they make me happy.

Remind me again how and why fat floats. Rather, assure me that it does. I'm having the hardest time believing this, considering how underwater I feel. Autopsy will begin at 6 oclock in the evening, incision will be made to open the abdomen, laterally, and enough water to fill a kid's inflatable pool will gush out from my belly and burst lungs. I am drowning. It's a good thing no one talks to me because I don't to open my mouth and let more water in. I look in the mirror everyday, as well as down at the scale, and I am 100% sure, scientifically, proven, justified, backed, I do know I am obese and fat and disgusting and my face is the size of the moon and sometimes the saltwater leaks out again from my goddamn tearducts but this time the phenomenon is called 'crying'. So yes, why am I sinking when I should be gliding along the surface? What is dragging me down? Why are my pillows constantly soaked?

Kisses are nice and lovely and I think about them a lot. Well, kisses and suicide, as those are kind of complementary things. Or substitute things. I forgot. I never really liked Economics so much (or do I love economics and I forgot that too?) Anyway, I think  about kisses and I sit on benches and I think how nice it would be to be kissed, how lovely it would be to have someone hold my hand and not expect to touch my stomach and never say anything about how I look or ask why I'm crying. Disney taught us to make wishes but never how to make them come true so what do I do now? Someone teach me how to make someone kiss the sad parts away. Someone teach me how to not be sad, that way I don't have to kiss people anymore.

EDIT: Oh and beeteedubs, by kissing I don't just mean that lovely wet mess with the tongues and the sexy bits and whatnot. Not I just mean placing your lips on my skin, anywhere. My ears my neck my forehead, all those three are favorites, my knuckles my knees the place where my arm bends, the opposite of an elbow. Kiss me and let me pretend to be your words. Let me pretend to be something abstract, something not so concrete. Let me pretend to not have a body for a second. Kissing lets me die for a bit and I like that. I like that feeling a lot and that is why here, on the internet, I am begging for kisses.

But don't kiss me anywhere don't touch me anywhere don't you dare, unless I say you can. Don't sit close to me or pinch or poke or prod. Don't put your arms around me in the back of taxis or squeeze the soft flesh of my upper arms. Don't. I get so angry. Don't kiss me. Don't come near me. Stay the hell away. I will invite you, I will ask for the kisses I want and I will take what kisses are given in reply. But do not assume, do not ever assume. I will ask politely. I will not be abused.

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