Limbs

Surprisingly i kinda always had full number of limbs. They were usually functioning properly. My two legs, the quiet ones, we shared a lot and the amount of silent sharing always scared me cos i knew deep inside how unique and irreplaceable this silence was. They kinda knew all inside of my brain. Perfectly balancing each other, one was the utmost emotional and other one was the most callous thing i've ever known. My two arms, however, liked to talk and tell about themselves, actually they simply loved to talk.I was the listener. I loved them and wasn't afraid to say it out loud. They,too, balanced each other in a very intrinsic way: denial. Denying that they were completely different, they were both so vulnerable inside and broken. They always thought me as a mirror, in fact, sometimes more than a mirror, like a MRI scanning through their brains and hearts. Only difference between these two was one was accepting her hormones, all the emotion and the resulting weakness but the other one was pretending just to be cool. I loved them anyway and I bluntly trusted them.

My legs? Although my right leg which carried most of the weight complaint a lot of times and even ran away and left me lame, I never heard from the left one. Every time, getting fed up with the bitchin of the right and considering the mute should be tough and cool, i relied on the left and fell down. The left didn't complain in these times either but stated clearly that he's not compatible with this all "to be relied on" job. No, this is not true. I'm still lying to myself. No, actually i'm not lying. I'm still idiotically trying to believe to see some good in the left leg. Cos he always said he'd be there when i needed him but i couldn't find him anywhere around although i called his help.

He was never there.

Why am i thinking about my limbs?

Cos i'm in pain.

People say you can ease your pain being with other people. That helps to forget, they say it among the thousands of other clichés. but its not working for me in this way. Talking about my pain only feeds it and the time I tell about it to someone and cant get an answer i get into some more pain... So, when i'm in pain i stop talking. So I write.

but this piece of writing is neither to soothe the burning of my lungs not to alleviate the anger punching my throat. This piece is because i'm grieving of the loss of my left leg and semi-amputated right arm. Now i've just left with a complaining right leg and from now on she's gonna be in full charge, a fragile good-natured right arm and a precarious semi-left arm.

i simply am so sad

i simply feel so cripple

i simple am broken

and there's no way to heal back

there's no way to going back