I ordered the Fujifilm Instax Wide 300 the other day – it’s basically a modernized polaroid camera that takes 62x99mm photos. Twice the size of the Instax Mini that everyone knows and loves, but also twice the bulk.
The verdict: I’m very bad.
I think a lot of us look back on our past-selves and think, “who was that person?”
We go through transitions constantly. We change our minds, we change ourselves, and we change our surroundings. Sometimes, as we change, we get to know ourselves more – and sometimes, we get to know ourselves less. Unfamiliar territories can open up a big can of “who the hell am I,” and “why am I doing this?”
Questioning yourself is the most important part of getting to know you. Lately, I’ve been feeling unfamiliar to myself. I spend so much time cooing patients at work and focusing on other people, by the time I sit down and look in the mirror, I’m thinking –
One called me “skinny girl
With the red hair,” and
I felt proud
To be defined by my fire
And my lack of matter –
My lack of matter –
My lack of space –
I am what I am
Not, Continue reading “puppet;”
And when I’m in a tub of my own
Vanilla-scented filth, hugging
My thighs & scraping my knees
With my teeth – I am happy.
When I am biting at my flesh,
Feeling my spine stretch
Like a mountain – when I am
Bone and war, when gravity
Pulls my nose towards the water,
And I am a threshold between
Microclimate – hot & cold bumps of real-life skin –
When nothing matters,
When the rolls of flesh don’t matter,
The prickle-hairs don’t matter,
The goosebumps, the blotches of red and white –
I am a mountain wrapped round my thighs,
And I love my body.
And I want no one
To share this moment with me.
Is not always the sound
Of a door closing.
It’s the releasing of
What you were holding.
There is one thing for certain in our world: we all will die one day. There is no guarantee on how many days we have. It doesn’t matter if we’re young or old, religious or atheist, healthy or frail – we all are going to die and none of us have any idea when.
My grandfather passed away on Wednesday morning at 4:30am. He had a bone marrow problem – myelodysplastic syndrome, or MDS. It’s a condition similar to aplastic anemia, in which the bone marrow does not produce cells properly. This can result in a critically low red and white blood cell count. No red cells? No blood. No white cells? No immune system. The condition can progress into leukemia and often has no known cause. Treatment involves frequent transfusions and even chemotherapy drugs. To be honest, the side-effects seemed worse than the condition itself.
The Friday before, he fell at home and fractured his hip. He didn’t survive the surgery and passed with my grandmother by his side. My brother and I arrived only minutes after his death; his hand was still warm when I touched him.
Telomeres are like little hats at the end of each chromosome. They’re a sequence of repetitive nucleotides that prevent the chromosome from fraying, deteriorating, or fusing with other another chromatid. As you get older, your telomeres shorten, causing more error in DNA replication. Thus, our skin sags, our hair grays, and our eyes just don’t work like they used to.
Sadness to the point of incoherency.
Sadness to the point of physiological degrade,
The point of “Where am I, why am I,
I don’t want to be.” I don’t want to be.
To the point of stopping and starting,
In the middle of thoughts and words
And Continue reading “degrade”
We really do.