M0xwill_moonlight
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the answer is not a disorder of the body but of the spirit. not the weight of the body but the fact of the body. not the shape of the body but the needs of the body. how inconvenient to be made of desire. even now, want rises up in me like a hot oil. i want so much that it scares me. i don’t know what i’m made of; i wish i did. that i could gut myself like a fish or a fruit.
// larissa pham, ‘abject permanence’