the new a/c unit hums. its one of the "portable" ones, with the hose you fit into the window, and it pushes up the blinds far enough that if you looked in from outside it has direct view of the bed.

i got caught there. my eyes open, staring into the sliver of visible concrete below. to catch the eye of whoever was out there, dragging that weight in those short, choppy spurts. closer than it shouldve been. under my nose. right under my nose.

creaking in the ceiling. cardboard dragging. wood settling? something settling, wood beams snapping and popping, all of it too loud. cardboard dragging. eyes on me? no, i was still watching. just in case. another pop of wood like a gunshot. eyes on me. dragging. eyes on me.

4:30 AM. such noise and presence for such an early time, too much weight for this darkness.

flesh left the mattress slowly, eyes fixed to the window with a taut rope, staring and staring until i found dancing shapes in the leaves outside. the shadows of jesters mocking me, prancing in front of streetlights that should be too tall for them. i crept as a worm to the front door. the peephole blinked silver at me.

i miss my cat. i miss her always, but especially on nights like these, where every sound could be an enemy.

the worm crawled up the front door, dirt on its bare feet. the worm pressed the glowing ring against its retina like contact lens. a second skin. a window. something true.

just concrete and railing and cars down below. swaying leaves in the fisheye. the a/c hums, the only noise now. the only noise theres been for a while. still, the worm waited. a patient creature, pathetic, ready for a climax that never comes.

i miss my cat.

i turned around, back against the door. it felt like fake wood grain. white paint and ice.

4:32 AM. an eternity in two minutes.

theres a phone to my ear and a hatchet in my chest. the sun itself made it for me. im telling things to that phone that i never imagined i would say. things the sun cannot hear. people want answers and im expected to soothe them. fine. i will do so out of earshot. my terms now.

im expected to honor that hatchet, the thing that leaves my soul and body wounded. i have a fear of the dark. the core of the hatchet is growing bigger, a star slowly going nova, searing through more of my flesh, taking the tips of my ribs. i am a burning retina for the whims of those beyond me. to let this core expand means losing myself fully. i cannot do that.

i take it. i tug on it gently, amicably, despite everything. it asks me why.

"im sick of my own anger," i say, "but dont worry. ill go slow. even as you continue to burn me ill take care to not bend your blade. i wont crease your edges. give you time to find another corpse to rend. dont worry." ill ease into the night - im still scared of it, after all.

but the hatchet then falls out of me without my input and its effortless, like it was the easiest decision in the world. like it was never meant to pierce me to begin with. there was a moment that struck me white hot, worse than all the pain it caused me before, and i blinked blood from my eyes and screamed. all around me i heard ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing, telephones and sirens and car horns. seconds that passed like hours in this isolation. my body curled; a dead spider left too long in the gaze of the magnifying glass...

and then it was all gone.

i looked in the mirror. a gaping, cruel, cauterized hole. the remnant of what the hatchet took from me. i dont think ill get all of it back, even years from now.

three years before my birth. two years after. a weekend in september every year. january of 2017. march of 2020. september of 2022. saturday, july 11th, 2026.

all important dates but the hatchet only even knew two of them. and now its nothing but ash staining my hands.

thats the lie that i tell people and tell myself. my starvation is done on purpose. with intention. the somersaults of ache in my stomach are the result of my active choice, a train of thought that i barrel through under times of duress; one that tells me that to eat is actually a luxury, and its one i dont deserve right now. or ever again, depending on the gravity of the situation. all i know is the ache. that borderline nausea reminds me somehow that im alive and breathing, and that i need.