>operator

how cruel… really… for something to be ripped from you like that — when you were so close just to touching it. i guess that’s it, i never even touched it how could it be ripped away from me? oh god vivi, i know im not a victim… i'm just as callous as everyone else. close-minded, masturbatory, one-tracked and side-eyeing. how many times do i use “i” in a sentence? you know i never wanted to be this way… i never wanted to be mean, i never wanted to be hated either. most of all i never wanted to be ignored, that’s what i ran from. i started my freshmen year with the dream of finally being acknowledged. all the things i knew i could do, i knew i was intelligent, i knew i was talented, i knew i could be liked, i could talk myself around a room of a hundred people. i was never hated before this, maybe picked on, maybe misunderstood but never hated.

the only person who hated me was mom. oh god she hated everything about me, everyday spent writhing like an eel in that house. i must’ve been so horrible even my own mother woulnd't like me, but i couldn’t accept that. please for once i just wanted to prove her wrong, when she told me i had a forked tongue, that every word i say rots and decays, when she said that raising me felt like falling eternally. i can’t be that bad. i was a child, no child is that villainous. but how could i prove it? i needed to, i thought i could and i was so excited to come into a new school and put myself out there. i couldn’t believe the numbing ache i felt. all my nightmares and paranoia coming alive right before me as a twisted rot spurring lies, spurring hate, coiling around itself till it chokes and doesn’t stop choking, DOESN'T JUST FUCKING DIE!

...im not a victim, i will crawl for miles digging my nails through the dirt until they bleed and splinter off if it means i can gain back even an ounce of control over my situation. i didn't want it to come to that. i genuinely begged for help, for someone to tell me what was wrong with me so i could just fix it. i begged mom to bring me to the doctor's for an ultrasound i knew there was something in me but nothing came up. all we were left with was the medical bill god she hated my guts for that. suddenly i was crazy. i got it from everyone, my own friends. now they just turn the other cheek like it's grown on them. well i just ran with it. became so overzealous, so proud of myself for knowing more than everyone else. anything to have it under control. i spat everything back up with twice as much venom. i became the most heinous, cynical, achingly sick parody of myself that i never, ever in a billion years wanted to be. and i knew that too, it became so bad i was expected to turn upside down every single room i entered.

i tried to dial back, just fade away like i;m used to and be really demure but when so many people are just betting on you... pitting you against yourself to act a certain way... you just do it to make it stop even for a moment. you do it so often it becomes you. you do it so often no one even cares anymore. the spectacle is over, no one even laughs, just rolls their eyes and spits at your name. why would anyone want that? i didnt. i wanted to be loved. by as many people as possible. i wanted to make up for being born, for wasting eggs. mom said she always hated what i did to her body after pregnancy. for making her fat and sick — vomiting every morning only to birth something she can barely look at. couldnt i at least just justify that? justify her suffering? for god's sake could i at least justify MY suffering?!

...you should’ve killed me vivi — really. i even asked politely and you didnt do it. you really shouldve. why didnt you? why didnt you just kill me like i asked? why couldnt you just do that for me?? you would keep me here alive just suffering like this?! and what am i going to do afterwards?! oh god. how cruel.

Soooo what now? just blinking and breathing i guess, staring into empty star. the moon blinks too, casts a light on every silver object, chrome glittering up to a sharp point. you've become just as cold as this knife, just as black as this sky. join me, take the knife and dye the tapestry black, become my night sky. isn't it tempting to never see the light of day?

I find that the emptiness truly never stops. There's so much love inside me, so much inspiration and intelligence, so much ambition and passion. I'm not depressed, I have an insaitiable lust for life and ideas for a better life/world/universe/present/future. I am not dull, I love everything so why am I so incomplete? What was taken from me That I can't get back? I have so much of what I want, I understand that I am still not in yhe best shape and my life is not ideal but most of the time that's not even what pains me, it's simply easier to pin the blame on my circumstances instaed of confronting this inexpilcaable Hunger that consumes me, ruins me, takes mee into the abyss. I used to want to fill myself up with things thhat admittedlyDID make me happy in a sick and obviously unhealthy way. Cutting and bruising myself was one way I tried to make myself comeplete. The scars and marks were pretty,showed to me that i WAS infact hurting. Now it feels so unsatisfcatory, no gash is ever deep enuff. Now I fantasize about losing a subsatantial part of my body like my weak eye or my left hand/arm. Iwant to pierce my own tongue, cut my fface up, I want to deeply disfigure myself beyond recognition sometimes. Lose organs or cut myself wide open. I nstead of fillinf the void, it now feels like I want to open it up even wider, wider wider untilthere's nothing left of my body. Until my body parts are spread across the entire world, strewn across the universe, until there's nothing, until everything everywhere conceivable is black. I wonder if Rimone woud find it romantic to live in this world completely black with my own emptiness. I feel bad for him when I think like this, I know it hurts himto see me inpain but that;s all there is, my one life's consistency. I don't even know if it's pain anymore, it's not even apathy, it's somehow even more empty than apathy. It's emptier than empty, It's completely indescribable in words, unfathomable in thought. It's not enough to feel pain, to feel happ, Pleasure isn't enough, numbing isn't enough. Nothing is enough, DEATH ISN'T ENOUGH. I am inhuman by now, more and mre disconnected. My form is now more of a semi viscous and infectious liquid virus, same consistency as a blood clot, a pool of congealed blood, all black, pulsating, moving as if trying to form into something recognizable. Almost alive, almost there. I could've been there by now but soemthing was embedded in me. That's it — nothing was taken from me, This isn't emptiness. This is something worse, something evil was planted deep inside me forevr. Something so grotesque, so vile. I think I've always known anyways, me and everyone around me. Nothing is ever enough because I am not enough, fundamentally, spiritually I am eaten away in half, my other half a parasite. I am not a persin anymmore, I was not meant to live or be satisfied. I am simply a tool to consume as much as possible and destroy everything I see. I am a mechnaism, a process. I am meant to die and be reborn over and over, I am meant to hurt myself, tear apart then rebuild forever. WELL i take back this discovvery, I am begging you now to release me, just let me go. Take me out of the cycle, I'd do anything for it to end. I want to be human again, I must;ve been human at some point SURELY THIS HASN'T BEEN FOREVER. Well, I could already be becoming an arbitr so begging is futile, not ppoint in freeing me now. If NOT, THEN JUST HURT ME. Put me through the worst pain an inconceivable and ever-present being like you could imagine, at least give me that, a near-death to make me feel alive, pain that will alow me to grieve like any other human being, a reason to pray. Fill me with it until I forget everything else, give me something to believe in like everyone else. Love me with an iron fist, I beg you, please, I beg you, Please, I beg you.

TODAY I SHOWERED THOROUGHLY, BRUSHED MY HAIR, WASHED MY FACE AND MY BODY IS STILL NOT MINE. I SPUN AROUND IN CIRCLES, I HIT MY HEAD HARD, I HELD MY CAT AND PRETENDED HE COULD UNDERSTAND ME AND MY BODY IS SITLL NOT MINE. I AM TOLD WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO, I AM AN OPEN WOUND, A GAPING VOID, A GASH UNATTENDED TO, UNCLEANED, UNMEDICATED. I AM PROUD TO BE A COMMUNIST, A FREE-SPIRIT AND YET MY BODY IS STILL NOT MINE. EVERYDAY IS IMMACUALTE, PAIN IS THE CLEANEST EMOTION, I'LL GO OUT AS I'VE NEVER BEEN: CLEAN AND HAPPY.

why did he rape her? why did she give birth? her body reverts to a non-euclidean state and the world is barren again. you’re bare just like me, involuntarily we pretend we cannot give birth. as we grew in the same womb we tore apart and began to look different. the only ocean i don’t need to know how to swim in as my body becomes raw. why did he rape her? why did she give birth? tortured IVF spirit spring back as a bird. raw, gentle. this has nothing to do with moms and dads, splitting alleles between thousands of zygotes lamenting in a kiddie pool of soup. i want to kill myself, each zygote cries one after the other, mom and dad have nothing left to give. the milk dries, breasts soft and sagging. the fetus outgrows this room, this house and tells you what a horrible mother you are. you starved me (and yet i have no more milk), you chastised me (and yet my hands are gentle). why did he rape me? why did i give birth? my imaginary womb turns inside out, churning, doubling in size, wasting, lamenting. for her 18th birthday she was given three sixes, insemination and a head full of aphids but big brother counted backwards up an upside down mountain of baby girls and was given a new car, seven inches and ice cream. i am a woman, i am an animal, the words become synonymous as time writhes on. when you swallow me, think of the baby bird you ate. time writhes on, i give birth to a doll; the only thing i am ever trusted with. born to give birth, born to ripen, born to strip, born to fester. why did he rape me? why did he leave me? why did he come back? why did he feel sad? come on, you know the answer. why did i give birth? why does sex hurt? why am i not human? why am i smiling? doesn't really matter. IVF nightmare. fetus crushed inside me and pulled out like hair from a shower drain. i'm still smiling. i'm not thinking about anything. except dieting. except intermittent fasting. chastity weight loss for children, for young adults, for an indecisive civilization. it’s not about how we look anymore, we convince ourselves unwillingly that we’re superficial creatures. a cure for a grossly shallow world seems so much easier to obtain. a new campaign, a new lifestyle, a new philosophy, a new book, new mantra, new obsession, new body, new weight, new hell. precisely, easily, accurately cure the wrong disease. indecisively i decide that i am fat, i don’t believe myself, no one believes me. unconvincingly i decide that i am unattractive, the source of my pain. i deliberately make myself unattractive, i repeat my new mantra, new body, new weight, new hell. it was never something so superficial was it? why did he rape her? why did he rape me? because she had flesh, because she was human, because she was a shape, a form, tangible. i am wasted, i lost my form, my flesh, i lost my body, i've lost my shape, i’ve shrunk down to a speck. i can’t give birth, i can’t be saved, i can’t be tarnished. my new mantra, my new weight loss ideas, my intangible senseless self-esteem, my common sense. the unmotherly reject, the unearth, the underweight, the untouchable, the unpleasant, the undertone, i want u i want u iwant u iwant u i want u. in truth, she was so thin and delicate, she was pale, she was soft, she was white, she was blonde, she was dumb, she was naive, she was unwilling, unable, incompetent, treated like a child for these reasons, coddled and cared for. she got to forget about the nagging, the fighting, the work, the lies, the rape, the poison. she got what she wanted, i could never be her even if we looked the same. i was thin but broad, unruly, dark-skinned, strong, outspoken, brutal, monstrous, uncaring, unkind. i was more than capable if i wasn’t just out to spite everyone. i was nowhere near delicate despite my bones breaking. but still, i'm not flesh anymore, i'm not vaginal sex. you tore it away from you, you knew the pain and you ran. no one can fuck you now but still, you turn on me. you see vaginal sex. you think you're the man, you're the one. you think it's endearing, it's pleasant to incite fear. this is what you do to feel powerful. you think I'll let go. i don't know what you think but I'll prove to you, show you how unfuckable i am. it's for decoration, it doesn't work, you can't rape me. i'm not flesh, i'm something worse, a man made husk of evolutionary defense mechanisms. you can't rape me. i can't give birth. if you touch me i'll explode and kill us both. i don't hate you, i couldn't. it was a mistake. i think i was your mother in a past life. you would hurt your own mother? she'll forgive anything you do because you're her son. and she'll hold you in her arms, make you a cup of tea. hot ginger tea, and she'll sit with you in bed and watch you drink it all gone. and you'll stare into the dark abyss as you tilt the cup towards your face. the heat will make your eyes water, the tea will be so dark inside the cup. everything you want to say to her will get caught in your throat. how much it hurts, how much it doesn't make sense, how lonely you feel, how cold your hands are, how much you want to end it all. somehow you don't need to tell her, she already knows. she feels it too because her pain is your pain, from mother to daughter to son. whether she knows it or not, she's already felt your pain, she gave birth to it. every month we're reminded of our useless anatomy, life as an empty mother. this body will one day be used by someone else, this time it will be justified by a beautiful child. we can't hurt this child, can't be mad at him, we just pray that he'll be a fuck up. we know it's too much to handle this month, we can't fucking do it, not with everything else piling on top of us and yet we still have to. like always, we just have to take it, this body doesn't belong to us anyways, we just have to take the pain or die. i say "we" but it's just me, everyone else is already past this. my pain is already forgotten, never understood in the first place. it's just like being raped over and over again. just like being eaten alive, just like being forgotten.