Cone of Shame

Apologies for the lack of posts but I have had pink eye. And I know what you're thinking, that pink eye does not necessarily preclude one from writing or the internet. If anything, the www is positively made for those with communicable diseases. Yet if I put my ear up to my computer screen I can hear you there like the ocean spiraled inside a seashell...whhhhhhnnuuu all hollow-like, the rhythmic recoiling with the mere mention of pink eye. I mean, you can feel it right now, can't you? Your eye? It itches a little bit? How good it would feel to rub the inside corner hard. But don't touch it! Whatever you do. Don't touch your eye while reading this post.So yes. Pink eye. It is not cancer or flesh-eating; it does not permanently disfigure. But for a few days you can see how it might be maybe, a sliver. The way people look at you either too hard or away, annoyed, disgusted, curious. Cautious. The way your presence leaves imprints. This is where your wrist touched the counter, fingertips on a pen.

Talking about beauty can be ugly. I am not saying I am beautiful. But I don't disappear either. Normally I am me and I am good, people smile my way, sometimes more. And then my eye crusts over and I am gone. Like that! In public, I look down. At home I avoid the mirror. The only way I exist is inside, what I think, how I feel, which is fine when I forget, if a little itchy. Then at night when I go to bed I wonder what it would be like to never have a mirror again, to never have seen a mirror at all. How might self-esteem change without the concept of reflection? Who would I be if I were only my insides?

Can you see me here again? My ear against the screen? Don't worry--I am not contagious anymore. Wwwwwhhhnn...did you know that if you put your ear up to a stranger's head you can actually hear them say what the fuck? Because I wonder what you think, who you would be if no one saw you.

I am in love with the color in this photo from Frida Kahlo's own personal collection. Through her countless self-portraits, she seemed fascinated with the play between physical and self.