The French charity the Mimi Foundation told 20 cancer patients they would give them makeovers. All that was required of them was to keep their eyes closed to make the reveal more exciting. The patients expected that when they opened their eyes, they would look beautiful — but they got something else completely.
so for my art project we had to fake a death/murder. for mine I did someone who had jumped off a building. when I was laying down while the picture was being taken, 7 people came running up to me asking if I was okay and if I needed an ambulance etc. I’ve been suicidal for a very long time, and the thoughts of jumping off buildings and ending my life have gone through my mind a thousand times. But the fact that people actually stopped and came running over to see if I was alright made me see that people do care, strangers care. so many people looked and walked past, but these 7 people some how took these suicidal feelings away… weird huh? But the moral of this story is that people do care about you, even people who don’t know who you are.
Last night, in the back seat of a car at night, on the top of a hill, in the peak of darkness, I shared my second kiss ever with another human being. My lips were taken and split in two, at my request, first, and by the jokers jest, second. It felt like something was spiraling. Something murky, something dangerous, something too unfathomably unreal that my skin screamed in the agony of it’s own existential crisis it was not there I was not there My second kiss was an unsolvable equation in which I could only equal a number smaller than the number of sockets that could contain glass eyes that see nothing beyond themselves, that see nothing beyond the glass and the red, the anger, the impulse; they are not there.
Electricity buzzed; the kind that kills. Yet I was calm. Calm in an odd sense of fulfilment. This was what I want, this was what I asked for. My tongue swallowed and lodged in my throat, it made way for another’s to enter. Just a kiss. Just two lips just a gesture that carried more weight than all of my limbs strength combined could ever imagine carryinig like a giant concrete slab phased through my chest and stoped half way, like I weighed a thosand tons but I. Am. Not. Here.
Suddenly I’ve done something even I can’t understand. Somehow kissing is more intimate than sex, and my body could mean nothing, given to a thousand save for what one measly kiss could do to it it is not here. My body ached then more than ever to be filled with something that could take away the pain. Five holes filled rather than two lips split what that mouth whispered into mine and how that tongue read the brail of my teeth I do not understand but I do not like it.
I do not need you, take your lips away I want to be alone.