For the first time in almost two weeks, my eyes slowly opened to a ceiling that wasn't white tile. My body felt heavy with sleep and my brain still filled with fragments of my dream from the night before. I rolled over to tuck my solid black comforter farther between my bare legs and pushed my body deeper into the mattress, one that wasn't foreign, stained, and filled with metal springs, but rather my own familiar one, which was newer and packed with foam and feathers on the inside. My only desire was to fall back into sleep. First the light sleep, then deeper and deeper, past the fluffy dreams of love and fields of roses, past the strange dreams of anxiety and irrational fears, past the darker dreams of death and loss, past the terrifying
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It felt strange to have such control over the water temperature. I took extra time to shave, gliding the razor softly over my ever-ghastly skin, being so thankful for the feeling of soft, smooth legs that I had missed for those three long weeks. You’re not allowed to have those here, the doctor said. There were many times I spent standing under the lukewarm water over those sixteen days, picturing all the things I could do to myself with that razor other than eliminate hair from the surface of my skin, if only I has access. It was in those moments that I was struck with the realization of how much I relied on the sensation that was metal gracefully sliding across my body to feel somewhat in control of the hurricane inside my head. This hurricane, which lasted for as long as I've had conscious memories, would weigh me down and bring me turmoil and treat me like an animal in a cage. It introduced me to Emptiness, of whom made a home within me without my permission and refused to leave, no matter how hard I tried to evict it. Emptiness had spent so much time living inside my chest that standing in the same room with this set of bones felt like breathing for the first time. The breath was fresh, crisp, and a little chilly, similar to the way the atmosphere acts when the fall season is fighting the summer season for its turn in the air. New life and new possibilities were standing before me and Emptiness took a break for sixteen days. For sixteen days, I felt whole again. For sixteen days, I was loved
It felt strange to have such control over the water temperature. I took extra time to shave, gliding the razor softly over my ever-ghastly skin, being so thankful for the feeling of soft, smooth legs that I had missed for those three long weeks. You’re not allowed to have those here, the doctor said. There were many times I spent standing under the lukewarm water over those sixteen days, picturing all the things I could do to myself with that razor other than eliminate hair from the surface of my skin, if only I has access. It was in those moments that I was struck with the realization of how much I relied on the sensation that was metal gracefully sliding across my body to feel somewhat in control of the hurricane inside my head. This hurricane, which lasted for as long as I've had conscious memories, would weigh me down and bring me turmoil and treat me like an animal in a cage. It introduced me to Emptiness, of whom made a home within me without my permission and refused to leave, no matter how hard I tried to evict it. Emptiness had spent so much time living inside my chest that standing in the same room with this set of bones felt like breathing for the first time. The breath was fresh, crisp, and a little chilly, similar to the way the atmosphere acts when the fall season is fighting the summer season for its turn in the air. New life and new possibilities were standing before me and Emptiness took a break for sixteen days. For sixteen days, I felt whole again. For sixteen days, I was loved