silk against naked skin…tubes in my belly…
today i finally realized as i walked through the freezing cold that i need to get some of my priorities straightened out. i have never been able to change my life style…i am stubborn and refuse to change anything about myself. i think the freak out i had when i was younger has made me deathly afraid of becoming someone i am not. i am afraid…i do not understand why i am so frightened of doing things that makes me smile…is it the psychopath in me that forces me to be unhappy.
i feel like i have lost him, lost him in the shuffle that is my passive self…he filters in and out like a fluttering plastic bag against the blood soaked background of my life. dr. patodia has become my focus…the only man in my life who has yet to once turn around and question my need for carving my body into oblivion. he listens without blinking…his white knuckled hands holding onto his desk in a grip that could rip my body in half. i want him to reach across the three feet of space between his body and mine, and touch me…feel my thumping heat and shivering fingers…pull me close in a bone crushing hug. i want him to hold me and tell me that it will be alright, that he can cure my ills with heavy medication, that he understands my needs, that he feels my body heat…that i will be okay, that i will recover…that i will heal. i want him to tell me that my plastic bag will stay grounded…that he will understand me in time…that i will finally be loved the way i desperately crave.
i first saw dr. patodia four hours after my brother found me passed out on my bedroom floor, in the grimy sea green halls of the hospital. i remember his t-shit vividly…black def leppard…as he walked up to my father and directed both of my parents outside the curtained walls. they spoke in hushed tones, and in a few minutes my mother ripped the curtains apart, marched towards me and slapped me soundlessly across my face. dazed i sat there medicated out of my mind, tubes running deep into my belly, pumping out the poisons that i had ingested. too weak to respond, i bowed my head down and turned into stone…words were said, tears were shed…yet i sat there staring at the lower left outline of def leppard on his shirt. overnight observation nurses pushed my hysterical mother and stone faced father out of the ward and still i sat there…looking at the sweat stain that had darkened the left armpit of his t-shirt.
he sat down with a thump on my cornered hospital bed, the military corners binding me into the covers…the night nurse hovered around my body…suicide watch is a bitch and a half. i sighed and hugged my knees into my belly, my lower body aching to be violated. i waited for the questions to start, i have always been on first name basis with my shrinks…my mother has had a few on speed dial, there have been times where she hits 5 on her cell phone and whispers ’she did it again’ and hands me the phone… but patodia sat there in silence the fingers of his right hand inched closer to my exposed left foot. he touched my left foot and i shuddered…patodia started speaking…his voice soothingly low and measured, like silk bands being pulled across my naked thigh…that first night he only asked me one question…’why?’
