I lay my body down on the operating table, take a knife and start cutting. Something inside of me has burned for so long that I expect to be blinded when I look inside. Instead of an inferno, there’s simply a heart. A heart that beats as intensely as I feel, a heart that encapsulates the complexity of my body and being, and yet still a heart that I could easily break with just one slice of a knife. How can metal kill the infinite wonder that is a human being? The right cut in the right place and all my experiences could be erased. I delve deeper into my body to see if the flesh and blood and bone can possibly tell me who I am. Who am I, when no one is watching? Who am I, at my very core?
Sacred Mutant Birth by Takato Yamamoto
i love when people write anatomy related prose!!! this was such a treat
This is so short yet so perfect