Last night, at 4am, as I disassociated in my friend David’s bedroom,
I pictured myself curled up in a little tiny ball,
legs tucked in, arms hugging the circumference of my body.
I’m at the beach, the sun is hiding behind a thick layer of clouds,
and as the waves hit my toes, my skin dissipates and I am reduced to a pile of bones.
I am so happy because I am no longer taking up so much space in this cluttered planet.
I think skeletons are beautiful and when I see my collar bone sticking out from the lining of my t-shirt I am reminded that I am human.
Disassociating is fun when you get to choose when it happens.
Dissociating is uncomfortable when it happens at a party in the middle of a conversation with a good looking stranger, or in the midst of doing my grocery shopping or my laundry.