literature

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Deviation Actions

Published: Mar 21, 2013

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Literature Text

my mother always told me that you should never use your thumb to check your own pulse and though i knew it had something to do with the thumb having its own, i never really knew why she told me not to. just like she told me how wedding rings are specialized by anatomists though everything ultimately and eventually comes back to the heart.

even fucked up things like adrenaline and sugar and anxiety and pain. 
her logic hasn't hurt her yet, just like it did with my grandmother. she believed that women didn't have heart attacks. she died believing that because she never had or saw a woman have one - she died of a haemorrhage. i miss her.

i never really knew her. and i always thought that it's good that she didn't live to see me. because grandmothers don't like grand daughters who stay up late to wet their pillows with dreams and tears and form sentences with breaths tainted with toxins and sleeping pills. and i just know that she would never have liked how i cross my legs when i sit. she just seemed like the kind of person who would want you to sit with your legs to one side, rod-straight back and an elbow length distance between anything capable of breathing.

i suppose that's why my grandfather changed so much when she died. i don't think he loved her. not really. my mom always talked about intangible hostility and tension between the two and i know it almost killed her one day because the last thing she remembers of her mother is how her body was not welcoming the last time she held her. and how her thumbs never were as pretty as her rare smile. 

my logic hasn't hurt me yet either. because people who left have no business with the living and when they die, no one's there to stop you from conjuring your own theories. and i wish my grandmother was here to stop me.