To my fear of being swallowed,
I am writing this in regards to the incessant urge I feel to be swallowed whole by you. So cliche right? To disappear into you, limb by limb, hidden beneath your skin so that I can rest and feel peaceful again. I’d climb into your mouth one night, hoisted up on the edge of your lips by rope and hook. I’d peel back your lower lip like I often do when we kiss using my thumb, but this time I’d need both hands and I’d struggle because of my shrunken size. It would be difficult yes, but it would be worth it once I entered your cavernous mouth; so soft and warm. I’d bounce on your tongue for a bit and then slide gleefully down your throat tickling you with my finger tips on the way down, causing you to cough and stir but not waken. Passing through the thumping of your heart would speed by me as I fell, getting louder and louder until it shook my entire body, and then softer and softer as I fell further away from it. I’d be welcomed by your stomach with a splash into the warm acidic waters which are at your core. You hardly eat so I’d be mostly alone there. Here I would reflect on my choice while clinging to a piece of bread not yet fully digested. Hiding away inside of you, disappearing into you. Was it a good choice? I wouldn’t be sure, but I’d take solace in the fact that I couldn’t change my mind now. First my feet would feel numb and tingle, slowly dissipating into the rippling calm waters. Then my calves and thighs, and you would start to feel nourished and full and not know why. My pelvis and torso would then fade away, head last, and I would fully disappear knowing I would be absorbed and travel all around you again before leaving. Would I be good for your body? Would you keep me around? And would you love me then? Would I feel safe and protected? Because I feel this urge to be swallowed whole by you, and I don’t know what to do.

Dear Younger Self,

You won.  Your jabs, tricks, and schemes worked and knocked her down..again and again.  She fought a good fight and hung on to her friends no matter how bad they were.  Was it because she had low self-esteem?  A bad self-image?  All created by you projecting a melting image of herself that shone onto every event in her life?  So you could feel better?  Nobody saved her.  Nobody came to her aid.  She lay there, water rippling over her body..porcelain reflections on the now flat lukewarm surface.  The you now would like this.  The me now HATES this.  The me now needs to live with those memories and shove them away, blaming them on youth, bad parenting, and low self-worth.  But I can’t help but wonder younger self, if we could have saved her, by being kinder.  

Hand on stomach and heart,
Older self