“Trust your gut.” But I can’t. I can’t trust myself in any manner, because today I might not be who I really am, whoever that is. What if this is a manic whim that will pass in the morning. What if when I kiss him I’m just using him as another brick wall to slam my body against. What if my gut says slam the accelerator, don’t bother trying, shoot yourself in the foot. What if I get fear for no reason, anxiety in the sixth floor bathroom, what if my gut says stay home but my heart says go. What if my gut says check the lock again, and again, and again, and again, and, what if my gut says seven is good but did you count it right. what if my gut says leave the party nobody wants you here, what if my gut says why did you leave now everybody thinks you’re weird. What if I get a bad feeling about everyone because one person once opened me up and sewed all their bad into my pockets, what if I go with my gut and overshare a lot and leave awkward silences that stretch in wet muslin bandages over pity-frowns, what if my gut says give in and my gut says I’m worth nothing and my gut says give up. What if you’re right and I’ve been ignoring signs that keep coming and I belong in a box somewhere, un-becoming.
My mom asks me what I want. Where I want to be. I wish I knew how to want things. I wish I had one feeling I knew wasn’t just a rush or a spiral or a warning sign. Something I knew was pure. Something actually mine.