to say you wounded me viscerally would be a matter of fact. eating hurt – salt and sugar marinated my mouth in an unholy fire. breathing hurt – acrid air tore against my nose, unleashing a torrent of blood thick as paint. the slightest flick of my tongue lit up my nerves like a christmas tree from hell.
but i learned to live with the pain, taught myself to give it time and space. i bit back the urge to snack on emptiness, nourished myself on tea and broth. i set aside time to bleed every morning, grimly gargled salt water until the stinging gave way to numbness. in time, the aching and bleeding faded and i saw myself for what i was: dynamically whole in every season.
– time is an ingredient
Copyright © Valerie Wong. Originally published on www.theglutenfreepoet.com.
Valerie Wong was born in Toronto, grew up in Hong Kong and is currently working as a consultant in New York. As a Third Culture Kid (TCK), she is at once a local and a foreigner wherever she goes. Follow her on Instagram at @theglutenfreepoet.
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