I miss feeling like I have something. I used to feel the weight of my shadow when I walked into a room. Heavy and pronounced no matter the extravagance of the light that created its outline. My shadow etched its frame onto walls with the ink of its soul. And everyone knew who it belonged to.

Now, I sit alone in my living room. Sickness looming in the air along with the long hanging eyes of pity. Why can’t my body fix itself? Apparently it thinks the world is attacking it and it’s flexing its muscles hard so that nothing can get in. Specifically my nose. My sinuses. Oxygen can’t reach my brain if nothing can get in through the nose. And I’m stuck in a haze of being half of what I can be. Been stuck. For two months. I wonder if people can tell I feel different. I wonder if people have been judging me from an arm’s length wondering why I can’t seem to formulate thoughts as clearly as I used to. I just want someone to hold me. Figuratively or literally. And tell me everything’s going to be alright. Because at this point, it doesn’t really feel like it’s ever going to be. I want to rip my nose off my face and start over. Let me breathe.