We are all rubber bands. Some of us more weathered than others. The blue one in my hair, which ends a thin braid of red and black, is breaking. It’s come undone just like we all do at one time or another. It has broken, so I’ve tied it into knots–a form of resuscitation–in order to last a little longer. I have a difficult time letting things go: lovers, poems, loops of rubber.
We are pulled at and twisted. We are gathered and we overlap. There is only so far we can stretch before we snap.
We think: if I can just bend a little lower if I can just arc this body into something more attainable I can just pretend this life does not exist / or maybe just this day if I can hold onto yesterday if I can forget about the leaks and burnt edges if I can just remain in this limbo…..We understand: we are who we are today because of yesterday if they could not love you before, a few months (or years) will not matter even if you take a hiatus from self-destruction, we are still bombs and the ticking will always remain
We reveal: the beauty of surviving within the war of ourselves the magic of the utterance of ‘NO’ because even amidst war, our boundaries still exist we may long for the romanticism of yesterday, but today can offer far more utopian-drenched amour than the faded snapshots of the past
Aimee Herman 