grace kelly thursday

not knowing whether you will have an organ removed is sickening. also, not knowing if the removal of this organ will have permanent peripheral consequences- like never being able to speak again- makes my skin flush and burn in the nausea of permanent unhappiness. just enough to cause an emotional limp. when every skin cell vibrates with knowing of hysteria and resignation. i want to throw up. throw up everything until i heave air. this will not make the pain go away. this will only help the mourning begin. sweaty, snot sledged wailing in the dark corner of my bedroom. my face sticks to the floor. the floor has no empathy. my heart shakes to knife through my sternum and flounder outside of my body until it dies. that is how the emotional limp feels in the beginning. after the beginning, my eyes leak with no sight to purpose. they just leak. clammy cheeks. clammy insides. clammy mind. clammy emotional limp. all this and the organ waits for the verdict. cut. or keep.

fucking brilliant. (hysterical laughter to onset of general stupor)