I’m turning into a spin wheel and it’s okay

Do you ever have this tingling
burning sensation in your veins that
makes you shiver? But also it’s funny, you feel
like laughing, you don’t know why, but
you feel your stomach is full of
beer cans and your feet just want to run a
marathon on their own, without you. Do you
ever just want to breathe a lung
or two lungs full of air and inhale everything
that surrounds you at that very moment?
Because I do.
On some days,
I do.
On some days I’m like the title to my
poems, the ones people don’t understand,
because they have a language of
their own, a language without keys. A language
that has transcript letters returned to
my address because it’s so foetal, it doesn’t
know how to roll it’s tongue yet. You see
on some days I have more questions than
usual. I don’t have a headache, they don’t
fill me up. Instead they’re emptying me
in and out. I vaporise like naphthalene
in a closet full of bouncy balls. For people
like me, sublimation feels like
happiness, being complete. When I am
not the centre of attention, the spotlight is
shaky but everyone has eyes for me. That’s
exactly when I feel complete. Wait, is this
satisfaction? Or is it just another kink?
I have a little pansy garden on the back
of my hands, the flowers talk to me and
they say I look beautiful. When they’re
nourished with approvals and
validation, they say I’m beautiful. The thing
is I already know I’m beautiful.
I just want to be pretty on some days
and have little party inside my brain
when people see me, finally, they see me. I don’t
want them to, but god it feels amazing.
At night when I remove my favourite
lipstick on a cotton ball, it’ll drip
with my joy. I found it in the absurdity
of how the world perceives beauty. Then when
I sleep without the pretty, I’ll say
‘Goodnight you fucking beautiful demon’ and
I’ll be happy. I’ll be beautiful.
-Garima S.

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