morning hazy with skin sensitive to every thread on my sheets and left arm aching. my body is fighting overtime now, with the second dose of hollow cells. i think it’s a fever, but i can’t be sure. this heat pooling under my right arm resting on a bolster, this throbbing slow in my head. i have been awake since 6am, i have been awake and watching the sliver of sun grow brighter, brighter.

trying to start my sentences with i feel, but really the only time my words feel is when i look away from them. or when sentiments overflow flow teem that i cannot help but say something. i default to generic but sincere questions when i just want to touch, to hold. have you eaten? how was your sleep? tell me about your favourite things. all this while perhaps a thought-act: how are you when you are around your favourite things? favourite people? how are you when you sleep? i want to hold your hand. i want to learn and witness all of you, all sweet rot betweens. the more intense these desires the more stunted my words. i can listen to you talk forever. i can look at you forever. let’s walk together, let us. a statement i now fear uttering because of how badly it blew up in my face then. a statement i feel i still tend towards in all my serious relations, all my kinships, even without uttering. i want to utter affections easily again. i try and they come out all wrong.

i saw on instagram something from gendersauce, that love is doing right by those we love and ourselves, not about staying put. i am still unsure of my stance about this – i find so much joy in knowing the people i love, unlearning and learning about them each day, it’s hard for me to say, “okay this is no longer good. okay this is time to stop this relation even though i still love you.” it’s hard, but i have done it once. this excision, perhaps is more of a reflection of how i see myself, how i want to be steadfast in my loving, that when i found that i can no longer be with them, when i had to sever the relation, it is painful on many levels. ego, being one of them. i could hear my being question, “if you love them, you will find a way to stay. if you love them, there will be a way.” but no. no. no,,, i have done it once and i will do it again if need be, perhaps with less mess.

march, since that year, has been marked by pain so acute i forget to breathe some days i wake i almost think i have sleep apnea, more so in the psychosomatic sense. and then march passes, as it has passed in previous times, and my chest opens up in remembrance of how good air feels filling these little air sacs. but for now, the haze, the uncharacteristic slip ups, the desire to hide so intensely no one even myself sees me. march is a month to be kind to myself, to be kind, to not interact with anyone new who doesn’t already know i am the least of myself in march. the start of this march i thought this season would be different but today, today, i was reminded of its untruth.

one, two, slow, morning. i’ll get up now.