I know I said that my next post was intended to be my (very) late entry to the #constrainedwriting contest, but someone (
Do not ask me "how are you?", because I am not. I can not locate me in this tired body, which on another plane has not even been able to get out of bed. Transparent strings hold me and sink me into the mattress. Still, my muscles move, my face looks in the mirror, the tap of cold water opens. My skin dresses to get out, being alert my autonomic nervous system. They see another sunrise, my eyes. They listen to the classes, my ears.
I can not perceive myself, I tell you, and you who inquire without honest purpose will not find either me over your deliberate deafness. I do not want to belong to your select sphere, I will not justify my space within its borders.
Do not stare at me in the street, strange, your inquisitive looks do not fit between my clavicles projected to the floor. Are these my legs? They walk forward because I have nowhere to go, where to encounter me. Brain, who shouts in my amygdala? Be quiet, make it silent, it is not allowed to lose control. Crying is for the weak. Is it?
Then, do not be shocked by the protrusion of teeth between curved labial commissures. The easy laughter is an escape, it is a catharsis, it is a refuge in the face of a past that deconstructs, a present that crushes, a future whose raw material is only located between my synapses. My smile used to define me, I do not feel like that anymore. It is not real if ninety times a hundred it is a theater.
Do not ask me how am I unless you truly want to listen to me. Ask me if I am well and maybe you will glimpse answers swimming in the acrylic layers of my irises.
Here is the Spanish version.
@zoexantelamv