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An End to the Fast

meshells drawings

the end to the fast brought dates and milk, grape leaves and hummus in the upstairs of the campus center, leaving my hands smelling of onions still apparent hours later at the film screening. it’s my own fault always eating with my hands, taking my tongue to my fingers afterwards until everything is mixed up with me.

the fast, and the break with the fast, is more then just about food. it always is. it’s more then just me filling [feeling] up on food or being deprived of it, then it is with the break and reunion of our daily commitments and choices. i know its more then just food. it’s always more then the food that sends my fingers in the dish or platter where i am trying to satisfy my desire my exchanging it for others. supplementing for silly desires like love and (re)union, self-contentment, and her affection.

today i helped break some one else’s fast that i had no part in. strange though that i feel like i’ve been in an unscripted fast for weeks that has kept me starving. in trying to hold on to, touch and possess her beauty, i have become the little child that cries when she cannot covet and hold and kiss what does not belong to her. i’ve been oblivious to my starving that i want to acknowledge, break with, and begin again. i broke with a fast but i think i need to start one. this time consciously, and right now.

self-indulgent, selfish, and loathsome, is how i would describe my person tonight. i can type but i can’t cook to feed someone. i can’t take care of someone else even though i can make myself full, too often and too soon. i can tell you that i want you but i can’t move from my fetal position under the covers of my bed to acknowledge your joy and that your joy is not mine. i envy the restraint that i do not have, like i envy your happiness which i wish for you, but that i also wish i was in someway the cause.

i’m told that the body and mind are the same, which maybe explains why my ankles are giving way underneath me when i walk home and why my legs bite the flesh around the bone in sleep, and why my strained back follows the straight wall uncurling itself at night. this is why i need to start a fast tonight that i will not break until my mind and my body come back to me.

i will not eat more then i should. i promise to find work even if i have none. i won’t check and recheck my mail, read or post on the dailyjolt, living in other people’s worlds instead of getting on my knees and scrubbing the floor edges of my small room. i need to begin a fast to quiet my childlike ways that speak too soon and too forwardly and desire too much. i will speak less. less to friends and even less to myself. i will get out of bed when i wake. i will start moving my body again. and when i sit, i will sit with my loneliness and not let myself pout out one single moan over my affection or her freedom to break with and roam from. and above all, i will choose each morning and remember every night that i promised not to shut down. saying again to myself that i will accept everything–the good, the great, the unexpected, and the devastating. everything that the world offers is gratefully accepted, expecting no more. meaning…i will love you, i choose to love you, even when i can’t touch you, even when you don’t want me, and even when i’m in drought and i’m hungry for you and without an exit.

whora

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