You are sitting with your family for lunch. They
Are talking, passing food, laughing and you are watching them
Through the glass of your corneas. You watch them while you are
Busy keeping yourself afloat; you are floating and wondering why
There’s no jellyfish all around your head, and it amazes you that oceans
Are not silent as you thought they’d be. It amazes you that you are able to
Smile and nod and breathe and pretend you are paying attention when all you
Are thinking is how to keep your feet still, your hands from shaking, your legs
From leaving the room, so you cross your arms and smile again.
When you watched Pacific Rim you thought it was about the way you inhabit
Your own body, like wearing a dress you don’t fit in, like having so much room
Inside your empty spaces that you take a lot of time just to say
Hello, because it’s a long way just to reach your mouth and speak up.
You think nobody could ever understand what all of this means.
In fact, for a very long time, nobody will know.
Let me tell you what’s going to happen to you: someone will hold you like you
Mattered; they will hold you like you are precious, and they will kiss your cheek
Firmly. They will press their lips on your cheek and make it last for two seconds.
When you two will part, you will start to shake. Now, listen to me carefully:
You won’t shake because they matter. You will do it because
This is more affection than what you had in a lifetime. You will be
Overwhelmed because you are not used to be held like that
And you are desperately hungry.
You will shake because it hurts.
You will question the extent of your damage
And think it’s worrying but there’s a detail you’ll fail to
Notice: for two whole seconds you haven’t thought of the oceans.