I have been expelled from my body

Yes, yes, yes: there’s shame in not belonging, as Warsan Shire suggests. To be left apart from society feels like not being human at all. As if there was an inexorable distance between the world and our own hands–never able to touch what’s real. To be made only of imagination and desire. But then again, isn’t that what we all are? Just full on dust that will return to ashes, ashes that the wind blows inevitably? The rule which is to forget and be forgotten? Yes, yes, yes: oblivion is scary. But it’s scarier to think about memory. How it changes us and how we transform what has been lived through evolving eyes, through a growing body. Memory is stronger when there’s fear of scarcity, which means I fear I may remember everything–an inability to choose what devours me. 

I have been expelled from my body, or that’s what I have felt for the last years. In Pizarnik’s verses, my life has been an attempt “to explain with words of this world / that a ship has sailed from me taking me with it”. Let me be clearer: sometimes I feel like I belonged to a world that abandoned me in my childhood and that I uselessly pursue from a new consciousness. I see love as an echo of the living, pure nostalgia accumulated in the abstract. I have never really been able to name it, but I know I have felt it because one is filled with light. I believe this is both my connection and my betrayal to reality.

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