By Aiyana Spear
A long time ago we had a conversation about beginnings and endings and all
the in-betweens. It was one of those 1 AM talks we used to have over text. Those
times when it felt like we were the only people awake in the world, those times
when I felt like I could tell you anything and everything, everything would be
okay. Well that’s what they felt like for me I don’t know about you. I doubt you
remember this one much, it was just one of many, but it was an important one for
me. Your insights made much more sense than mine; you’re too smart for your
age you know. Well, I guess we both are, but I am more mathematical than
profound. We talked about how beginnings and endings are not and never will be
simple, that night I told you about how I thought starting something new is scary
because I would always be aware that someday, maybe soon, it would end. I don’t
remember the exact words that you sent to me but you told me about how I
shouldn’t not want to begin things and start adventures just because they would
eventually end, and endings are beautiful in their own way even though they are
notorious for being difficult. I don’t know if what you said helped anything or
made me think in a different way, but I do remember it.
A lot of the things I feel live in my throat. Perhaps it is because my throat is
the most vulnerable part of my body, so when I feel something that I see as
vulnerable, I just shove it into my throat and ignore it.
I feel endings in the back of my throat, in my lungs and in my collarbone.
Endings make swallowing difficult, they bring tears and they light sparks. Not
pretty sparks but the painful burning kind that eat away at my bones and at my
soul. But that only lasts for around a week; a week of Netflix and ice cream and
tears, and then the numbness sets in.
Some people are good at endings, some people are not. Sometimes it is a bad
thing that is ending and sometimes it is a good thing. I told you that I am bad at
endings, but I lied. I am good at endings. I’ve seen enough of them to be good at
them. It’s the beginnings that I am bad at.
I feel beginnings in my throat too, though they live near the front while
endings hide in the back. Beginnings live in the pit of my stomach and in the area
around my heart (not my heart itself). Beginnings are cold where endings are hot
and they cause everything to freeze up and this, well, this is what fear truly is.
I feel math
in my heart,
pumping the blood
and the soul throughout my body.
I feel math
in my fingers and toes,
on the tip of my tongue.
math does not live in my throat
when it is confusing,
it rears its head
in my brain
a ‘beast’ I must puzzle over.
But math will always,
live in my heart
beginnings and endings