An artist removes tape from the borders of a sketchbook page.
This is the neatness with which I’ve lived my life.
Sharp edges. I’m art perfectly contained within the margins.
To look neat is not to be it. To look contained is not to be it.
To be either is a verb, an action rather than a natural state of the self.
I don’t want to ‘be’ free as the performance of it. I don’t want to walk up to or step down from a stage.
I want it to be impossible for me to not be free.
I want to look like a fool if I ever cosplay containment. Or neatness. Precision. Or fear.
I want the imaginary audience of my life to boo and frown if I ever did.
I want fear to look unnatural and awkward on me. Ill-fitting.
I do not want to learn to carry it better.
I do not want to learn to make it look good. It doesn’t look good. It isn’t good.
It’s grotesque and paralyzing.
