You can neither eat nor sleep. You toss in your bed fighting known and unknown demons. There’s a virus eating into your brain, it does not take away from you; instead it multiplies thoughts of your fears by 13. It is the most harrowing thing you’ve ever felt. You wish you could turn your body inside out like the towel of a dead carcass, run your fingertips across the surface, taste the edges to be sure of the pH level, put your ear to your body to see if it is throbbing like it’s supposed to, rummage through your body as if it were a lost purse to make sure nothing is amiss; because you’re so drained from waking up and feeling like today, this minute, this week, this month, your body came out as a typo.
You’re so drained from not being able to be in control.
“Don’t gain flesh here”
“Heart, don’t beat like you belong to 95- year old grandma”
“Don’t pass out”
“Don’t be out of my control.”
Tell me body, what do I have to do for you to be spelt out right?