I think too much, there is only dissonance

By: Loraine Valladolid

Convulsing limbs, a combusting heart –yet the hard floor offers enough comfort to catch

me. Though my muscles ache from the impact of falling out of bed, somehow, I see no

difference between sleeping on a mattress and the floor. Even with ants crawling over my body,

I feel their minuscule forms as they trek across this burden of flesh.

Moist eyes, rotting teeth –my eyes have been like this for as long as I can remember, yet

not a single tear has been shed. With my head suddenly touching the ground, I can hear my

eyes blinking and realize that I have been subconsciously grinding my teeth. I just noticed how

much my mouth hurts and how I’ve always longed to cry.

Dark bruises, protruding skin –I know that my wounds have healed, yet my body is

beginning to itch again. I don’t know if it misses the sharpness of a loathsome kiss, or if it’s just

craving the touch of human hands. But with the repulsiveness of human contact, only my nails

can dig deep through my skin to satisfy my needs. I can hear the meek sound of blood trickling

down my limbs.

My head curled between my legs –is this what it feels like to be completely embraced?

To smother my face with the crimson hue of a contrarian who neglects the reality she’s familiar

with and continues to mourn the every passing second of her life. How can one be a mourner of

a past that never happened?

Hours passed and all there is within this room is clutter and the ringing of silence. My

body, nothing but an entity awaiting its next incarnation, finds the peaceful madness disturbed

by the Earth’s dissonance –the droplets of rain showering over my roof and the petrichor

adorning my nostrils, reminding them of the fragrance of a wallowing Earth.

The indescribable loneliness, fitting for an alienated desire –a constant craving for

something seemingly real yet unconfirmed –lingered within me. Despite this, I stood up from the

floor and opened the window. The ringing continued, but my skin was met with the cold breeze

of a brewing storm.

It had been a while since I felt a sensation strong enough to make my limbs move. So, I

stepped onto a windowsill, opened my arms, and embraced the clouds. With my eyes closed, I

let my body fall until it met the wet grass, finding comfort in touching the land that birthed me. At

that moment, I started to feel everything again, I realized that maybe this alienation was never a

human emotion, but something more, something ineffable, that only the Earth’s whispers could

help me understand.

What does it even mean to be human? What does it truly mean? I kept asking the Earth

for answers, pleading as the raindrops became the very liquid that flowed from my eyes. I rested

my ear against the ground and waited for a reply.

I lay there for hours, the scent of grass clinging to my body as the sun pierced my every

pore. I could feel my skin burning, the smarting pain blossoming through me. I felt so naked, so

exposed, my wounds beginning to dry and form new clots of skin. The Earth remained

unchanged; not even a murmur reached my ears. Its body swayed as I writhed in unimaginable

agony, only realizing that I had broken the bones of my own body, trying to catch the oxygen

from my smashed lungs.

My eyes still shut, impatience grew within me, so I let my eyelids flicker. My breath

catching up in my mouth makes me unable to think. I never knew how much life exists beyond

what I could see from my window; how much life there is on a microscopic patch of land. The

Earth remained hushed, but not the life crawling on its floor. The verdance highlighted the

sweetness and virtue of even a worm.

Right now, all I feel is guilt for lying on a land that bears life more complex than my own.

I thought breathing was easy, but in those moments, every molecule mattered. My

subconsciousness did not exist, for there had always been a deeper connection that I had been blind to. The Earth never spoke, but its loudness was a vociferous gong, breaking the reality I

was used to.

Its silence was its answer, a wisdom that spoke without words. Despite its evolution, the

Earth remained constant. It continues, it lives. I looked more closely at the ground, at the soil

seeping water from the ocean. I looked above at the sky with its ever-changing clouds. I

observed the ants and worms crawling. I touched my own hands. At that time, I learned that the

plants, the worms, the ants, the water, the soil, everything that breathes and doesn’t –they are

not merely what they seem. I realized I was never human. I was never a girl. I was never

anything. I was the Earth itself. And so, I must continue.