As I studied the bugs, really observed them, I began to learn from them. To learn their secrets, how they survive where others could not. I began coveting their abilities. After some time I realized that I was becoming like them. I was metamorphosizing, changing. My inner skeleton was moving out to become my exoskeleton. The focus of my thoughts was changing, what was once kept inside was now coming out in words. What people thought did not matter so much anymore, just getting the job done mattered. The connectedness, the noise of all other life began demanding acknowledgement and time. I was transforming.
The insides turning out, shifting, becoming something different. The painful change.
Bones slowly – day after day- breaking through the skin. Pulling away from the muscles. In some places reattaching, in others falling off altogether. As the skin peels and bones shift, gaps begin to form. Open air gaps formed where old body parts are no longer needed. Organs decompose and break away leaving holes where they once were. Blood and fluids ooze out once the skin has peeled away. This lets in air to dry out and harden what is left. Only the structure is left, only what is needed to stay together. The inner skeleton has become and exoskeleton. A sense of freedom now emerges.
Floating in the goo of life. Resting after so much exertion. The effects have become encompassing. Things have turned inside out. There has been a metamorphosis and it will continue. Shedding the layers and assumptions. What was once inside is now outside. The raw secretive emotions that one keeps to oneself are now exposed. The barriers are breaking and what was once understood and acceptable is now gone. The core, the inner soul is now exposed. No more masks, no more skin, no more muscle to hide it all under. What have I become?
This thing inside of me, is it good or bad right or wrong? Is it heavenly or demonic? I’m not sure but is coming out and taking over. Maybe others will say it is wrong that it is demonic that it is bad because they fear what Is different what is not pretty or polite and this thing coming out, it is not pretty, it is not polite, it is the bug and it needs recognition, it needs to have its say to be acknowledged and to have power. The bug is me, I am the bug Woman.
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