And Now I Want To Cut Off My Hands
My therapist told me to see where my feelings felt in my body. The majority of my feelings are in my stomach but there’s this new one now, in my chest. I can see this feeling in my mind’s eye. It looks like a 1920’s comic book panel of a cigar-chomping, bald, gangster guy with his arm whipping around led by balled fist heading towards a target we cannot see because it’s on the next panel. I refuse to look at that next panel. The gangster guy’s face is all scrunched up and red with anger. You know whomever is going to be on the receiving end of that fist will regret not running faster. The feeling also looks like a beautiful butterfly that I found and put into a jar. I can’t really describe it, but the butterfly has this ‘citrus-glow’ that burns from its within. Nobody has ever seen a butterfly with this sort of effect, so they are drawn to it. It also has this weird, tiered wing structure that makes it so much more than what it ever was supposed to