Showing posts with the label #HurtandAnxiety


You don't have a mental disorder; you are not on Prozac or Alprazolam, and you definitely don't hallucinate except when you notice your body suddenly start to extend, much to your trepidation. Your arms, your hair, your legs, and your face, as you see in VFX movies, turn and twist, curl, and coil agonizingly into a faint chestnut brown creature, not just a creature, a fully formed Scorpion. You look at yourself in the mirror aghast as tears make an all too familiar entry into your eyes accompanied by a deep pinching pain, the same kind when your parents refused to buy you a pack of crayons, a pair of new school shoes, the gungroo for your dance class, the five-star chocolate. Mind you, they were not desires you could blow away like the fluffy head of the dandelion. They were necessities; in the absence of which the teachers unleashed a volley of words so acidic, it forced you to steal- you see, you can either beg, borrow, or steal. The first two alternatives being non-existe


There are two people you want dead right now-except one is already dead, but you want her to die again. A more painful one- like being pushed off the cliff and down she goes into the deep blue waters of the Pacific. She doesn't know how to swim, and that makes the climax more interesting to you. And for him, you want a cook's knife and his skin. You don't have a mental disorder; you are not on Prozac or Alprazolam, and you definitely don't hallucinate- except when you find the scorpions crawling over your body. Their tiny legs like needles, more like arrows, poking at your crows' feet, your armpits, your collar bones, and then a sharp poke, like some pesky jumping cholla on your breast, stinging your nipples. You frantically seek the scorpion, only to find him in a faraway land in the Chinatown storytelling center or the Bloedel Conservatory, raising two girls now entering puberty. You wish(don't lie, it's more like a curse) the girl's scorpions who pi