Everything and Nothing
The moment my heart stopped beating, I came to life.
I took a moment to feel what I couldn’t feel. My heart wasn’t pounding in my chest, my ears weren’t ringing, it wasn’t quiet but there was no sound. My thoughts were gone. I was but a star in the sky—no more human than the Earth my body died on, no more dead than the sun once hot on my skin.
I knew I was everything and nothing at all.
Before I died I could only feel fear—fear for the people I left behind, fear I wouldn’t see those who had once left me, fear of the pain.
It was all for nothing. It didn’t matter. I could feel the fabric of the universe on my fingertips, burning and freezing but comforting nonetheless.
With no lungs, no hand on my throat, no heart in my chest, I took a breath for the first time.
skin.
a bead of sweat on my brow
a pool of blood pouring down
too much blood
where is everyone?
fingers curled around stomach fat
nails dug into my
skin
the mirror is smeared
my eyes full of fear
no one else seems to see all of this
skin
legs too thick, arms too big, hips too wide,
i'd rather die
than live with so much
skin