I want to be old, with my pale olive skin creased like an unfolded piece of origami. The paper is carefully bended, each instruction followed to make me. What will have the paper structure looked like? How will it be folded? What folds did they use? Perhaps a twin pair four folds, each fold pinching together in one point? Three sharp vertical lines? Or two long deep horizontal bends? Will I be happy?
I want my skin to be worn in loosely fitting over my long white bones, sagging like a old pair of once-fitted jean. Those pair of jeans that the more they were worn the more comfortable they become. If I wear my skin enough, will I finally be comfortable? Will that make me happy?
I want my deep purple veins protruding from hands and feet, pumping the whispers of my life throughout my body. I want my world experience to show, my secrets revealed with one glance. I want to have a story. To have understood and made meaning of life. I want to be finished. Because I know if I reach the end, I will have been happy.
-SJ
