'mycorrhizal network', by Beth Gilson
tw: mentions of death
on the days you wake up
and your perceived failures rush in like
when your headphones go to full jolting volume with the slightest brush of your controls and a
song you didn’t want to hear is piercing through your earwax and you feel like there are little
bugs in your brain and all down your spine and weaving in and out of your freckles and you just
want it to stop stop stop stop stop why didn’t you just die when you were 16 things would
probably be easier you wouldn’t have to learn how to be a sentient being with frayed neurons
and an engorged amygdala and hyperfixations that never seem to go away and tears always
ready to explode at seeing a child dressed in neon with a patient caregiver and why can’t it just
be quiet why can’t you just be quiet why can’t you just feel quiet
stop everything you are doing
and leave your bedroom.
look out your window
at the budding trees
and the neighbors that continue to add rings to their trunks,
and the homes that have planted firm, dense roots in their foundations.
adjust the volume on your headphones to the right amount
and choose a song that makes the anxiety
rise out of your skull
and transform into a wish
that everyone can learn to be patient
with their frayed neurons and engorged amygdalas.
visit the laughter of a friend
in a 5-minute voice memo
and stay so long
you make room for yourself
in the melodic rise and fall of
dreamy hopeful elation.
you didn’t know it was possible
but you can remember
how to exist.
Photography by Beth Gilson