On the Body, My Mind

TW: Dysphoria, racism, eating, mental health

Body.

Dark skin-light skin body. Unrecognizable body. Not-like-me body.

My father’s eyes body. Brown body. Mixed blood, mutt.

Body where it shouldn’t be body.

Eat too much, too little body.

Listening body. Can’t form words body. Your hand over my mouth.

Traumatic body. Take-care-of-self body. I can’t remember body.

Frenzied body. Manic body.

Move, body, move. Still body, still.

Pain.

It’s too much for me body. Can’t handle body.

Body is mine, but not always.

Body is mind, but not always.

 

Body stands in mirror and reaches out to touch.

“Body does not recognize itself,” Body says aloud as it reaches out to touch the reflection again.

Body does not feel you tell me. But body feels all and so much more.

 

Body is in pain.

Body hurts.

Body dizzy.

Falling body.

Body pulls itself back up again.

 

Body is sick and tired.

Mind is too.

Body’s hurting body.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

 

Please, body. Just go to bed, body.

Please.

Please, body.

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

 

Body sleeps.

 

Body wakes up. Exhaustion.

Day in, day out.

Lights out, eyes open.

It’s very hard for me to get in-touch with myself — to know all I am thinking or feeling in a given moment — even when I focus all my effort towards it.

My body and mind are two very confusing things. They are trickster. Illusionist. I live life on their terms — not my own. Yet, they hold the key to understanding more about myself, what I’m going through, and how I can deal with it.

I must try however difficult that may be.

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