by sarah abbott
sometimes i wish to go back into the womb, where it's safe and sound and nothing but warmth and blankets of liquid embrace me, floats me in dreams and purity. nobody told me how tough the world would be, how tough coming out of my shell would be, how hard remembering to breathe will always be. i used to hear nothing but the grumbles and fumbles of my mama's tummy, used to see nothing but the unexplainable comfort in a zone. now, i see everything anew, and while it's fun and exciting, sometimes it scares the crap out of me. literally. take, for instance, twenty minutes ago. all i wanted to do was play murmurs with the parents. instead, they wanted to introduce me to something called gun kata. now, don't get me wrong, i'm all for learning new, violence-provoking activities, but i'm pretty sure this was something to be done behind closed doors... with me on the other side of it, armored to the ground. so i cried. and they lied. told me it was fun, it's fun it's fun, they said. if guns were fun, i'd gladly crawl back up the hole i came from.
sometimes i wish to go back into the womb, where it's safe and sound and nothing but warmth and blankets of liquid embrace me, floats me in dreams and purity. nobody told me how tough the world would be, how tough coming out of my shell would be, how hard remembering to breathe will always be. i used to hear nothing but the grumbles and fumbles of my mama's tummy, used to see nothing but the unexplainable comfort in a zone. now, i see everything anew, and while it's fun and exciting, sometimes it scares the crap out of me. literally. take, for instance, twenty minutes ago. all i wanted to do was play murmurs with the parents. instead, they wanted to introduce me to something called gun kata. now, don't get me wrong, i'm all for learning new, violence-provoking activities, but i'm pretty sure this was something to be done behind closed doors... with me on the other side of it, armored to the ground. so i cried. and they lied. told me it was fun, it's fun it's fun, they said. if guns were fun, i'd gladly crawl back up the hole i came from.
sometimes i try to reach for stuff. like the bunny my uncle got me, or the gay pink star pillow, or my beloved dingus ng ding gus. sometimes i try to fly towards them, arms stretched back (airplane-style, not gay birds manner) and legs a-kicking. i'd grunt and stutter and sweat and, eventually, falter... no matter how hard i kick and stretch, i never move an inch ahead. and that scares me. and i give up. let the parents pick me up. let them bring the goals to me.
eventually, i know i'll have to grow up. reach things on my own. learn to crawl. walk, perhaps. swim, even. supposedly my first swim will be on the day the parents celebrate their 11th anniversary, which is next month, which means i only have a few measly weeks to coincide my achievements with their expectations. sometimes it scares me. sometimes the expectations scare me. sometimes i'm not even sure if things are worth trying for, risking for.
but then i do a double roll when nobody's looking, and god it feels good to laugh on my own. sometimes, it's good to do things on my own. after all, you'll never be a kid without wonder in your heart. and you'll never grow up without being a kid from the very start.
gtg. gun kata beckons.
gtg. gun kata beckons.
No comments:
Post a Comment