I pour a mound of sugar on top of wispy moutains of cappuchino foam and watch it pile, little light brown crystalline squares, like gold. I carefully poke small holes through the spongey clouds and watch the crystals sift downwards, then lick my sugar encrusted fingers and chase the sweetness with a sip of semibitter coffee that lies underneath.

My brain is so full, I half thought. Its teeming, to the brim. But I can’t speak a word; I’m so full and so clumsy that spilling one drop with result in losing the lot. So I hobble, carefully, balancing this basin of words in the small space behind my eyelids; my only release when the basin is so stirred that small drops of my concentrated sorrow trickle out from behind the two rosy buds that lie aside my eyes. Everything is thick and clouded and I can’t see through, nothing can get through, except pierced fragments and phrases that catch on the outsides of my membrane and tug until I can gently let them loose. I think I could find something beautiful here, hidden in the thorns and tangles of disappointment, cold congealed hope—If I could only—pull—extract it from the snares of fear and the sore nerves of hurt—but the pain—oh the pain! I think it might hemmorage my brain, flood me with such acute understanding that I would live my life forever mute. But these aren’t full memories, only the shades and ruins of them, which I haphazardly stitch together, some surgery of the past, and render it, unrecognizable, before me. And here, a paint the bloody underdeveloped bud of longing, cut off before it reached it true maturity; and here, the mutilated scar of hope, and finally, the faded, worn out edges of love, its last threads tethered to the edges. Here is my portrait, of myself, not human, but the raw surge of emotion: for I have in the process lost all boundries and constraints, and lack now any human form—there is not faint sketch of Daughter or vague outline of Dancer nor the metal bars of Student to keep me in place—instead I think I will envelop the world entire with my limitless existance, spread thin to the tearing point of insignificance, and will meld effortlessly into atmosphere, become the world that simutaneously swallows me whole.