It Ends with the Night
Evolve or stagnate
It began with the night.
The sweats. The shivers. The unspeakable terror of feeling nothing. The empty hollow of positive words. The ringing in the ears. The fingertips numb from pain. The toes twisted from cramp. The eyes red and sore from the endless tears.
The body was rejecting me.
The treatment had no effect. My skin, irritated and raw — red from the burns of radiation. Peeling and crusting and crusting and peeling and flaking off like gossamer strips caught in the wind.
This felt less like evolution and more like devolution.
I went to scratch my head and pulled large clumps of hair away in my fist. Large patches of baldness escaped from the undergrowth.
My ring slipped quietly off my finger. My clothes hung further than a John Holmes prop. Everything was oversized. I am a walking David Byrne tribute act sunk in the soup of a badly fitted suit. My bones were poking out. I had become all elbows and no curves. Hip bones distended, making a break for freedom towards a more luxurious body. One that promises to uphold the rights of unhealthy eating and succulent fatty foods.
What had I become?
I sat back down on the edge of the bed. A foot away from the mirror and the…
