Tiny and Infinite

Sometimes, I look at my arms, and my wrists, and think about how small I am. I am suddenly acutely aware of how little space I occupy, and how much open space there is all around me. Even now in my room, I feel hyper aware of how big everything that is not my body is. I will never be outside of my body, and no matter how hard I reach, I cannot touch the wall by my bed without moving. I want to see and feel everything, not one at a time, but I want to be able to sense it all at once.

And sometimes I can. Sometimes, I am suddenly conscious of every single thing. It’s as though I’m in every person’s mind and I can see and feel every thing they feel, I feel tied to everything: Avatar style. Sometimes it is too much, and I can feel and sense too many things, and so I go and hide in my room for a while, sometimes in the dark, sometimes not. Things feel too real and there is too much existence happening all at once.

And then there are times when I look at how small my arms are, and am keenly aware of how much power is within them. It’s like in the Doctor Who episode where Clara chats about a leaf being infinite. Because it is. With my hands and my arms I can create anything- art, music, writing. With them I can make myself permanent, eternal. It’s like what Erica says in the Social Network- “the internet isn’t written in pencil, it’s written in ink.” The words I’m writing now will never die. Even if i delete this post, there will be copies stored somewhere. My arms won’t just keep me for my lifetime though. When/if I have children, I’ll hold them in my arms, I’ll teach them using my arms. Their existence and how their lives turn out will be somewhat dependent on how I use my arms. And then that will be passed through them into their children, and their friends, and everyone they meet.

My arms are fucking powerful.

Erin

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