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It was something quite simple that set it off. There were two things that I wouldn't have minded watching but I didn't even 'say' anything about either, and just went up to have a shower and go to bed, after someone commented 'There's nothing on now, we should all have an early night'. I realised that I most certainly wasn't assertive and was instead quite passive. So I wrote on my palm in copper ink, 'I am passive, not assertive'.
My palms are the very favourite part of myself, more than anything else. I love their uniqueness, their multitudes of lines running everywhere. I have more wrinkles than my grandmother has, yet my hands are still smoothe, they just have thousands of quite pronounced etchings along them. I am yet to go to a palmreader (only for fun, don't actually believe in that) just to give them something of a headache.
'When I define myself I write it along the lines of my palm'
I've done this before, writing little statements, words along some of the lines along my hand. So I wrote that first bit about lack of assertiveness down and then the above statement after I'd paused to reflect on it. Then other statements kept flying to my mind both going into the shower and then still in the shower where I wrote it in soap in the mist against the showerscreen.
'I am Hollow'... 'I am Shadow'
'I am Withdrawn'... 'I am Confined'
'I am Wounded'... 'I am Fallen'
'Write an epiphany in the mist'
'See me weep'.. 'See me cry'.. 'See me fall into the light'
'Life destroys my soul'
'I am this, I am nothing'
'I am erased'
The last two emerging due to those first phrases that were written on my palm were being washed away, as though my very being was washed away with it. I am constantly being erased when I define myself on the palm of my hand.
Whilst I was getting dry and cleaning my teeth and the various other basic routines one does on completing a shower I felt slightly unconscious yet also extremely aware, aware of the movements of the towel etc. Yet my mind felt sort of shut away in some deep place.
'I am beyond consciousness'.. 'I am aware'
The next sort of phase in this kind of madness was when I turned to the dictionary to look up epiphany. It's a word April tends to use a lot, so it has sort of crept into my mind somewhat but I keep forgetting it's meaning. To me an epiphany sounds like it is some kind of a short quick puff of musing air. However the dictionary informed me that it's actually a manifestation of a super human being, which is probably why the meaning hasn't sunk into my brain as I think I prefer my definintion of what an epiphany is.
Whilst my eyes were glancing over that page in the dictionary I noticed some of the other words that sounded interesting
ethology: Science of character formation
eponym: one who gives his name to a people, place or institution
epistemology: Theory of the method or grounds of knowledge
epitome: thing that represents another in miniature
equinoctial: of equal day and night, circle of celestial sphere whose plane is perpendicular to earth's axis, happening at or near the equinox.
At that point I turned to the beginning of the letter e in the dictionary and going through the words began to write some of them down in rows down my fingers
-ean, eagre, ebb, ebon, ebony, ebonite, ebrious, ebullient, ebullition, eccentric, ecdysis, echo, eclacious, eclectic, eclipse, eclogue, ecstasy, edge, edible, edifice, edict, edify, edulcorate, eerie, efface, effecture, effigy, effluence, effusion, egotism, egregious, eldritch, elemental, elogy, eliat, eliminate, elide, elenchus...
Quite early on I'd given up trying to write small along my fingers and started to write the words up the lengths of my arm for a bit, and then not liking the formal rows, began writing them scattered all over my body. I wrote them mainly around my torso area, underneath where my clothes would be in the morning, as even in my madness I can sometimes be rational. By this point too I'd given up also writing the words onto a piece of paper, and just wrote them onto my body, picking them from random, until I glanced upon the word 'enough' and thought it to be a suitable place to stop before I ended up covered in copper writing.
Morning then and the words along my hands and arms and fingers are washed off, leaving just the ones on my torso to be washed off during my evening shower. One of my last thoughts before going to sleep had been this:
'Flesh makes a wonderfully luscious parchment'
