There are days where I wonder what a painless life would feel like. If all emotions simply dissolved into air, nothingness, the sound of a pin dropping at the expense of somebody’s life ending. What would life be if people were just happy. If smiles could brighten someone’s body like lanterns, our veins pumping within us simply by someone’s positive electricity. A conversation would feel like music notes moving soundlessly between each breath. Inhaling and exhaling a great feeling of power, being able to shift someone’s entire state of mind. I wonder what beauty would taste like. If I could take a bite out of an apple, and instantly make the doctors go away because I am simply too beautiful for them.
There is beauty in pain but I want a painless beauty. I want to be able to hold somebody without fearing that their soul is a wandering ghost. Living their life with sadness, desperately trying to find the other side. Is there even a heaven on the other side? Is it even beautiful? How can we hope for something we do not necessarily know exists?
When I look at myself in the mirror I see frozen raindrops on my skin, hours of weeping rests on my arms taking shelter. I hide these moments on my body hoping that whoever undresses me will not see the slits of pain, the goosebumps of fear that rises like flames, I am a fire waiting to be burnt out. I live with a repeating vision that lingers longer than it should. Like a cigarette that still glows after stepping on it. A vision that causes my heart to shiver but causes the frozen rain drops to melt. I am slowly melting by the thought of every single person who has hurt me.
There are fireworks exploding in the eyes of those I devour, blueberries bleed in spirals while the green grows like alpine trees. I am transformed by his colors – beauty bled within me. But I’m afraid to let my blood drip. I’m afraid to let another person take a dip into my soul, to let parts of me open up, causing everything inside to spill out. I envision my physique parting away. I will no longer be whole, a missing puzzle piece lost in a home.