Paper[cut] Cranes

Cut

“You have to cut that part out. It shouldn’t be there anymore.”

The deepest cuts aren’t skin deep,

nor do they even graze the surface.

But the pain is physical.

Definitely physical. 

It’s the straight-to-the-gut-heart-wrenching-stomach-twisting

fall-on-your-knees hurt.

And by cut, it doesn’t even pertain to scratches or wounds.

It’s more of the slicing-out of a huge chunk of you.

And even when that’s gone, the pain lingers.

In gestalt viewpoint, your body looks for completion,

- a phantom limb.

Fold

“Keep that part in, so this faces outward. That’s what it should look like.”

You’re left with an ineffable loss of direction.

You want to keep it all in,

to just crawl inside a hole and disappear.

Yet you also want to scream your bloody lungs out.

You crave silence, you just want everyone to shut the fuck up.

But you also want to drown in noise and raves.

Leaving you in bipolar disarray,

what do they want to see?

Mania?

Depression?

Tuck & Pull

“Push in lightly just like that. Then take this out. Gently, gently…”

No one really leaves you alone.

You want them to.

And you don’t want them to.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

Smooth out

“You’re almost done. It’s looking good. You’re doing great.”

They tell you you’re doing great. 

They tell you, you don’t look like crap.

They tell you, you look like crap.

They tell you, you look like crap but fixable.

What do I tell myself?

This hell doesn’t seem to end, but I’m trying.

Add the I’s eyes 

“Make it alive. Then, you’re done.”

I’m trying.

I’m trying to make this stupid paper crap.

They say if you make a thousand paper cranes,

you get a wish.

So far I have 300 papercuts,

578 crumpled crane hybrids in the trash,

and 0 cranes.

You should’ve known better before you did this.

I suck at origami.

But I try anyway.

I don’t know what to do anymore,

that I turn to folding paper,

wishing you would appear.

Laughing bitterly, I ask

how come paper can be animated to live?