anniversary of a rebirth

they say the year is 2007... which would make it, let's see, -2006, 2005... 2 years. today is my birthday and i am 2 years old. it was january 31st, 2005 when i used the last minutes on my calling card to place the winter cold payphone up to my tear-filled ear and hear his voicemail greeting, to which i responded with an incoherent blend of emotions concluded with what i thought would be the last words any human heard from me: "i love you."

the last words i actually spoke were to a mirror that reflected a breaking tornado of confusion, a hurricane of emotions, an earthquake of anger. i shouted to the reflection with assertiveness and determination. i said to it: "... this time i am doing this right. i am doing this all the way to the end. there is nothing to stop me and i have done everything in my power to prevent intervention. if, after all that i do to conclude this, i do not succeed: i know the power is not mine; i know there is a purpose for me even if i do not know what the purpose is; i know my life shall be devoted to serve. ..."

it was all ingested quickly and smoothly. i released artist charcoal all over a white cardboard piece... a name, an emotion, a letter romanticizing my father's importance, a self portrait that looked like a train wreck in a coal mine.

i curled on the floor into my final fetal sleeping position... fetal was where it ended.

it began later under florescent lighting and bleached white hospital coats pumping charcoal through an umbilical cord coming from my throat, me screaming and crying in ways only newborn babies can.

no one knew i was there.

i spent multiple days in a unit where the people around me were dying against their will... with me neighboring them, alive against my will. humbled by the lack of gratitude i previously possessed, which they shed light on. movement restricted by tubes and machinery. privacy nonexistent. no book. no pen and paper. no window. multiple days. no visitors: no one knew i was there. smelly gown, charcoal on my face, inconsistent nurses, no concept of date or time, unable to remember a single phone number to contact anyone with. i could do nothing but review the situation and myself. the "why...?" and the "what happened" and the "what now?"

and i was new. empty. fresh. a clean slate.

despite the expectations and preconceived notions of others, i was no longer limiting myself to what i was previously convinced of: false measurements of self-worth, delusions of psychological instability, dependency, unattractiveness, notions of being victimized -these were no longer valid for me.