i.and it all starts like / sometimes i forget to comb my hair in the morning & then it turns in to / i forgot to drink water in the morning & then it turns in to / i’m eyeing the scissors on the printer for much too long & then it turns in to / wishing i never woke up / and it’s like: i look in the mirror and i am packing my bags and hiding in a motel room with no reflective surfaces & then / i am alone / & it is not unfamiliar.
ii.and it’s starting to look like an ending. / you know? please don’t ask me what that means. / it looks like no, love, but really, how are you? and it’s like / i am a passenger in this body watching myself speedway off the bridge. you’re so sweet, thank you for asking. / i don’t even like anything about myself anymore but i still crush wildflowers in my palms and scream at them to sing / i killed the choir! i killed the choir.
iii. it’s starting to look like you know i’ll always be here / & then it turns in to well, yes, but i’m starting to think the more you know about me the less you’re going to wish you did at all / and it’s like i am always here to catch you fall and i am always stretching myself like elastic in parachutes to be right there for you but i am / reaching terminal velocity, you know? / & i won’t let you ask me what that means. / & it’s not your fault, because i just / can’t cut my thoracic cavity open but oh my God i am falling / and i am falling alone. /
sometimes, i forget to ask for help. / kidding. i always am. always do. / i didn’t forget, i just didn’t. / & it’s like: don’t ask me what that means.
iv.and it’s like, do you even like me anymore? was i even a warm presence in the first place? / if you’re going to cut me out in silence, then be over and done with it because i am battling far too many closet skeletons / to deal with this right now. / i am your friend or i am not. /
v. sometimes i forget to be alive, and then i think sometimes i forget to let people notice. / not like i ever tell them, i just forget to. / & it’s like: no i don’t. sorry. / & then i’m on the highway again, and i’m looking for heaven, and polaris sends me her butterfly kisses to soothe my aching heels, but / sometimes, i forget to look both ways.
Sunny Vuong is a second generation Vietnamese-American writer, and founding EIC of Interstellar Literary Review. Her work is featured or forthcoming in perhappened mag, FEED Lit, and Eunoia Review, among others. Find her on Twitter @sunnyvwrites.