Sometimes I wish I was uglier, like I wish I had pins and needles sticking out of my skin.
I wish my face was riddled with scares from pimples and my dimples had shiny silver rods in them that scraped against the inside of my mouth every time I smiled.
The first time I fell in the snow it was down the hill. My limbs slipped from under me like a rug being pulled up to be cleaned and I tumbled into the snow and the ice. I felt my body give up on me and surrender to the pain I imagined the jeering faces of the drivers passing me by, I felt broken and busted but I felt alive.
Sometimes I wish I had seven heads. One to tell you all the beautiful things I think about you, another to spit spirtitual lingos and recite bingo numbers, and another to remind me of world hunger and why I should eat more and that I shouldn’t shrivel my body like dried grapes, another to remind me that the word for dried grapes are raisins, another to give me a reason to keep it together another to help me take it all apart. And the last two would constantly bicker, bringing out the bitter in me and the philosophy major in my mind who can’t seem to find time to put pen to paper and think about life living and longing, I am longing to feel like I am meant to belong somewhere.
But on the other hand, or head rather – I want to be an outlier. I want to be a liar. I want to tell ugly people they are beautiful. I want to let the hopeless know that there will be another sunrise I want to tell her she’s going to live right before she dies because I am so desperate to make people smile I will twist myself into the prettiest sounding lies, don’t tell me this is selfish. Don’t harp on me for wanting to have people accept me when the unaccepted are getting murdered. Don’t put a gun to my head and then tell me to be true to myself because the trigger will go off.
Sometimes I wish I was bigger, never very loudly – I want to be a dragon. I want to breathe fire on the ones who have hurt me I want to fill my lungs with gasoline I want to line up the firing squad and survive them I want to believe I am worth more than the labels; more than the fables they tell about “my kind of people.” I want to rise above the bullies and the torture chambers I want to be able to write poetry without being on the brink of tears I want to spring forth new ideas.
I want my ears to grow to the size of tree trunks. I want to be able to hear the earth while she cries out for mercy I want to close my eyes and see the thousands of tiny lies we tell each other each day. I want to bleed, open and wounded. I want to hold rage and love in both hands I want to take a stand and
I want to be able to love again. I want to be able to cry when she moves me, I am not a mountain I am not a dragon I am just a man. I am brutally honest and I can’t caress away the cold truths this world will give you but I can grant you a million kisses. I can send you well wishes, I can call you caring and smart. I can remind you that things have been hard and they will likely get harder. I can be with you when they do and I promise, I can hold onto you.
