Today

Today, I spent 7 minutes inside a tight cabin with the man I might marry. He tried on some ugly pants, and we were sweating with a pile of clothes in the right corner that kept falling and dissolving like a disobedient giant. I bought a sky-blue, loose jumper I always wanted and Jennifer Lopez jeans. He said he would marry me in the suit he purchased, but not the pants. He smells like plums, and I do love him.

Today, I held a small hand; two small hands. One of them belongs to my language barrier, yet it is deep in my heart, reminding me that I have never grown out of this child’s body. Each hand reminds me immensely of how much I love to play. And his hand, now that it is official, excites me to tears.

Today, I am not sure what my duties are. Confused and with bangs split in half like a curtain, I am waiting. What else can I do? Isn’t this what we always do; what we are born for?

Today, it is hard. It is more uncertain than ever. I feel weak; my fingers are about to fall apart. They feel rotten and old. My left leg feels the least like mine, and as if wooden. As if a thick sock swallows its shape. It tingles and gets numb. You are strange, body, and not only today. Despite your weirdness and weakness, I try to hug you as I always do. And you—you do you.

Today, I leaned my warm cheek onto a huge rock and thought of the version of myself that knows all the answers to the situations that are going to happen,
when they happen, if they happen. The wind pressed my body onto that huge rock even strongly, so I could hear my own echo inside its massive body. Then I

Today, the term "chronic disease" came from my throat, escalated on my lips, and produced heavy tears unexpectedly in front of two people I consider good friends.

Today, I observed my room and my behaviors in it more than usual and realized that I am already sad to leave my heaven of self, or at least this part that moved in here. It moved in, released, got sick, healed, not fully, and now it is going away. Everything is going to change. Everything always changes.

Today, there were ten girls, so different and beautiful with their fresh starts, ideas, and thoughts about life. It occurred to me that it is so sad and beautiful that I am in such pain. I laughed with them through all my pores, and I was happy that I was finally old enough to teach the magic of life to someone. I had a chance to enter the small body again, to undo and unlearn. I am just a girl in pain at the end of the day.

Today, I asked him to separate from me for some time and maybe watch Naruto while I watch Modern Family. It is not easy, Body. When my tailbone stops hurting, I will leave the room and go for a long run until my legs urge me to stop.

Today, I arrived from one country to, particularly confused about where my home is. I started living alone and making my new body of work. I wish I could make a new body for myself as well. Out of purple sugar canes, for instance. I want to write letters to my mother and paint self-portraits. Then it will hurt less. Then it will all stop.