The first time I had body dysmorphia was on magick mushrooms. I took a small dose, at night, when no one was home. I laid in my bed for hours, listening to The Mix and waving my hands around
Then I heard myself breath I was stunned, it felt wrong. I heard this other person breathing when I did and talk when I did. It didn't belong. I didn't belong. But I stayed silent and I got up and danced. It felt so... nice to just dance. An expression of myself in a body that wasn't my own but I controlled. A way of claiming what I am anyway.
The second time, I watched him. I now knew he was my other. I watched him laugh and cry, struggle and relax. I watched over him as he went through The Process. I learned more about him since I awakened, I don't really know what happened that first time. Was I always there or did I begin there? He laid on the bed for hours when The Process was most powerful. He seemed in agony, I felt it too. But I only could watch now. When The Process began to fade, he released the poison that was mixed inside the potion. Was that vision we had real or a byproduct of the poison? He felt it, I felt it, isn't that enough?
The third time I approached him, I felt like I finally knew him and knew he wouldn't shun me or turn me away. He was sitting there, waiting for The Process to begin and once it did I lifted him up and stood him to dance. We danced for a while and then twirled back to our room. I told him he needed more colors! It was all blacks and greys and whites, its so boring! He promised me he would and I picked a nice outfit for him. We danced some more, we laughed, we cried, we watched the cats chase each other and then we sat. As The Process continued, he began to drift away. I knew it would only be a moment we could share in full awareness, even then our connection wasn't truly whole. It was hard to have conversation, but we could at least feel the other person. The comfort. The love. I could feel his ideas and he mine. I was happy to finally interact, even though the body was wrong for me, this moment it all felt right, it felt like we were whole. Together.
The Process eventually took him somewhere else, and I was left to watch again with the cats. He and them all laid down. The cats to sleep, him to go. He looked in pain again, I could feel it too. The music began to scream, he turned it off. The darkness began to scream, he opened his eyes and stared. Stared at his cat, the only one is his sight. And he lay there clutching his chest, clutching the sofa, holding on, not letting go, writhing.
We felt fear from what we saw before, we felt the pain and the meaning and he didn't want to know. So he held on and refused and felt
♊︎