Short Stories II

Body Truths

I am the eyes,

I am the heart,

I am the breasts,

I am the lungs,

Every one of us are here to finally speak.

'I didn't realize that things were wrong until I saw myself in that gritty hospital mirror. I am her eyes, yet I missed so much...'

'The eyes didn't tell me that I was fragile until they finally saw it. I was shriveled, plastered to her skeleton like sandpaper. I thought that everyone was as blue, and as cold as I was. I thought that as a hand, it was okay for me to tremble at the dip of room temperature. I wasn't allowed to know...'

'I am a pelvic, a skeletal structure that's left forgotten by the rest of her. I only wish that the brain told me that I could stop this. I wish I'd known that student seats aren't supposed to bruise me, and that I'm not supposed to show the caving of my bones. The eyes, they couldn't know. Not even her nervous system could save me from this...'

'I am in line with the pelvic, a long and slende
r backbone to her life. I know now that a lifeline is not meant to protrude outside of the body. I am not supposed to hold this girl together while falling limp out of her skin, while grinding against wooden chairs and counter tops. The spine is meant to stay aligned with this girl until death do us part... Not the other way around...'

'I am the eyes, and I've seen everything. But despite that, I could not feel anything. I could not feel the loss of control that the brain did as I watched her head swing at the concrete walls, sobs staining like velvet print. I could not look away from the blistering red pouring from self inflicted wounds, not like her brain could have. Somehow, her brain didn't allow me to show her what it really meant to cope...'

'I am the ears, and I am only that. The brain disowned me from the system. That ever so prominent voice that had grown in the brain had taken my voice. The threats and bribes from her mother, the questions from her friends, the notifications on her phone going untouched; it was the brain, all of it!'

'I know what death sounds like. The staccato rhythm falling to a low thud was the breaking point of my hold on her. I am the heart, the mother of all of her precious veins and arteries. Her vessels had ground to dust before they could even experience the real world. My entire system, my loves, my family... all dying without knowing why...'

'I was supposed to be her blanket. That soft, unique warmth to spread across every part of her. I was supposed to be the one who she turned to when nobody could hold her, the one who padded her fingertips so they didn't become cold. I was her thick, lush comforter for so long. Even when all she wanted was to peel the skin away in the dangerous world...'

'I was the first to go, even when the breasts were the last thing she wanted to give up...'

'As skin, I fantasized about the days when I held her little self together when I began to sink. The soft texture of myself had vanished, leaving me to live alongside bones I wasn't meant to meet. I dreamed of simpler days, sun kissed in the Florida rain or brushing wild Nebraska flowers, as I flattened into a carcass. Flushed with a lifeless white, surrounded by dark overcasting clouds was what was left of me. Somehow, the brain convinced her that what people really saw was less important than a concave stomach...'

'I am the brain. I am brilliant, I am loyal. But in my sincere love for every part of her, I welcomed something much more powerful than myself...'

'I am the brain. I was not in control, I was not nurturing. All I'd wanted was to become a strong and confident mind for her. In turn, I failed to do so, so much as to allow an unknown voice to aid her journey to adolescence.'

'For her entire life she spoke a brilliant message, walking through life with this matured mind. I'm not even sure how I found that inferior to her world's expectations, but I did. I can't explain the remorse I have for her body, the sorrow that I've taken from allowing something to hurt everyone else. I  can not take back what I began... but I can end it. If it took ten years for me to finally recover her, than I know that we will have time to start from the beginning, her and I.'

'...Donna and I,'