Out-of-Body after I Could Live Without Speaking & Autoportrait by Chelsea Hodson & Eduard Levé

“I sometimes feel like an impostor without knowing why, as if a shadow falls over me and I can’t make it go away”

- Eduard Levé

I

It was my senior year of high school when I figured out I would never not be “sad”. I don’t eat fruit. I drowned when I was four and I haven’t stopped since then. The middle child is always an overachiever. I don’t know my blood type. I convince myself that I'm a good writer by reading articles on the worst-rated books. I am still not convinced. I don’t hold grudges. When I was young every adult hated me. Rainbows don’t make me happy. I am very young. I am in love with a guy who’s in love with an anti-feminist. My life always feels like it’s ending. I suffered suffer from an eating disorder. I post obsessively on social media. People describe me as everything I don’t think about myself. My teachers always thought I was ordinary. Pizza will make me nauseous. I don’t trust religion, I don’t trust humans taking on God's words. I am ordinary. I am that one person you hate for absolutely no reason other than you hate me. I meditated for three months and I can’t remember if this emptiness started before or after it. My friends always leave. During my first therapy session, we talked about trauma, I am traumatized now. I hate my name. No one will date me, I can’t figure out if they are smart or blind. I sometimes feel like there are two people within me. I am attracted to men that look both hypermasculine and hyperfeminine. I don’t want to be famous, but I long to be known. I broke my elbow when I was three, my father didn't catch me, I like to think of it as the origin of my trust issues. I believe in God. I have touched dead people before–life is truly meaningless. I have never been in love, I don’t think I am capable of it. Old music makes me feel alive, not in the cliché way though– it genuinely makes my heart race and pump blood to my brain releasing endorphins that make me question if I am anything without it. When people ask me where I am from, I forget every word I’ve ever learned. I used to have a guy best friend, a queer best friend, and a blonde best friend, now I am my own best friend, and their bodies are piled in my closet next to a box full of the stupid post-it notes I always wrote about them. I will never know if I had a good childhood, it is hard to define that when you were dead for half of it. I am convinced that aliens walk with us. Sometimes, when I am walking through the endless avenues of New York City, I think about the many times they told me I was going to hell. I now whisper back to the crowd of faceless people “I am already here.” My mom likes to say my negativity will murder me before someone or something can. I wonder why my grandmother hates me, I am not affected in the slightest by it, but I still wonder. My 70s playlist keeps me from thinking about the blade currently slicing my soul in hopes of regeneration. This is not even a thought, just a fact, I am dying of cancer. My smile is fake in the most literal way. I wonder when I’ll start thinking about living instead of dying. My depression is not depressive enough for therapy but too depressive for my friends. I once read that the way you perceive your reflection is ten times uglier than what other people perceive– I must be really hot. I forget that I can speak Spanish, twelve years of culture cleansing will do that to a person. Someday I will wear a bikini. I don't know if it's Satan or God who’s rooting for me. I regret everything I have ever said. My ancestors made a deal with the devil, my soul has been loaned for money. Fuck it, I’ll sin.

II

My first acting role was in 2019 in a starlit backyard when this guy wearing excessive cologne kissed me for the first time. I am sadly straight, I have to bear him mansplaining literature to me– he is a business major. If I could write a letter to all the people that have died after touching me, I still wouldn't write it– I’ve put them through enough. I have never understood why I’m hunted by envy from privileged people. I still feel like masturbation is a sin. I think of myself as a puppet, easily deceived by kindness. I hate disappointing people. I got a tattoo today,  my middle name in all caps ANGELIE. Did I mention I am a narcissist? My friends think I'm maternal, but I think if I ever was given the chance of being a mom I’d take the out. I think very highly about myself, which is probably why people think very lowly of me. I joke about it but I don't think I am attractive. I know something is really wrong with me, there has to be something. I have devoted myself to this one person whom I haven’t seen in three years. I am not a good sister, I will never be. My addiction will eat me alive, my teeth will get yellow and my hair will fall off. I am a fan of Giuseppe Verdi, I geek out on classical composers. That one thing they always complimented will be gone soon. I miss my grandparents all the time. I am terrified to live, which is why I live through you. I like the idea of being immortal through paper. I don’t enjoy partying like I used to, I hate the one-night wonder, and I live off consistency. I hyper-fixate on random people, I will use my last breath to mouth their names. I don’t care if people hate me, I hate myself. What makes me crazy is when people like me, why would you do that to yourself? I am writing this as their chants play loud in my eardrum through the looking glass. I think back on the time I was a part of them, their purpose was my own. I praise unattainable beauty. My heart has been burning for two winters, my ashes are fading now– Spring. I hate that my favorite song is other people’s favorite song. Light beams through my shut curtains and wincing is a reflex. One time I taught myself how to play this game for a guy, I ended up being really good at it, better than him. I wish I never met many of my friends, it would make this so much easier. Achieving is the worst form of success. Have I ever been truly happy? Can one ever be truly satisfied? I rather people think of me as a bad person than a good one. I love when people underestimate me. My face haunts the walls where they tried to imprison me for having a mind of my own. I want someone to write a song for me, to say “Can I stay?”-- to ask for once. When I go on the subway I have to rethink what I know about myself, why do I stay away from people who just had it harder than me? Drinking makes me sleepy. I can’t bring myself to care about recycling. When I was in high school I used to loop Got to Be Real by Cheryl Lynn to make it out alive. I believe romance is dead. I have punched people before. I wish more people knew about the nature of enlightenment era opera singers, castratos did not have a choice. I hate that I was born in this era. I feel more sympathy for dogs than I do humans. I like to read the Bible, the Book of Revelation (Apocalpsis) I am reminded there is an end to this. I have an open mind, but you can’t get me to like rap music. Inspiration is the biggest gift of life. I wonder why I was sent here, in what kind of world am I sent to make this make sense?