i write because i like re-reading old journal entries. i write because i like looking back on memories i’ve forgotten that i get to put on again, briefly
so my fingers and hands can remember the feel of wet sand and the tide washing over them and the first taste of salt water taffy. the disappointment that it wasn’t any good and how the adults loved it but i wanted fudge and i swore that when i was an adult i wouldn’t lie to kids about candy and what is good and not good.
i write because i if don’t no one will know about all the secret cigarettes i used to smoke out my bedroom window
or the time i pocketed the body of christ at mass so i could take it home and look at it to see if it was really special in some way, huddled over the wafer, locked in the bathroom. the disappointment in seeing it was just like the flying saucer candies, like thin edible styrofoam and i popped it into my mouth in a panic because my mother knocked on the door.
i write because i want to remember and catalog all the times i’ve locked myself in a bathroom to do anything other than its’ intended purpose.
to hide from an ex at a party.
to examine my underwear the day after a miscarriage.
to eat a thanksgiving meal after my aunt had told me i gained weight.
to eat an unsanctioned snack of cheetos because i was subliminally taught that it was the only place to eat unsanctioned cheetos.
to hide in the bathtub from my parents because i refused to change into a dress for a party.
because it’s where i go when i want to be an asshole but not hurt anyone’s feelings.
i write because it’s easier than talking to people and i want people to know that i love them but i don’t want to hear what their reply would be.
i write because one day i may need to remember in specific detail all the horrible things that have happened to my body, by others, by myself, with good intentions, but maybe not. i write because the brain has selective amnesia and will do what it needs to do to protect you, so you can function in daily life without being haunted by trauma, but the body knows. the body knows.