excerpt: ingrown hair (from never walk alone.)

Pictured above: Crashing Brittany’s Birthday Party at Bathurst Local, 2023 (left); Luna’s shoes on the pole, 2023 (right)

There was this ingrown hair on my arm that kept bothering me for days
I felt it wedged into my skin
It ran deep
And I kept picking at it
I know I shouldn’t pick at my skin
It could do damage to the dermal layer
But it just wouldn’t come out.
I went to the bathroom to grab a pair of tweezers and for an hour I stood over the bathroom sink, scraping my skin
Eventually I started digging
Just really going in there
And I started bleeding.
I couldn’t see it anymore
Through the blood
I wiped it away
And dept digging into my skin
I bled, I wiped, I dug
And dug
Until I managed to get a good grip of it
And then I pulled
I pulled
And pulled
And pulled out this bright green feather covered in my blood
My toes turned to talons
My face grew a beak
I had wings.
I realized I was late for my meeting
I was out the door and running towards Place-des-arts station
I left my airpods at home, fuck
I realized I had no money in my OPUS card and I had trouble operating the machine to fill it up because of the wings and all
But I eventually made it onto the packed train and there were no seats
And I kept poking holes in people’s shoes because I kept stepping on people’s feet with my talons
And knocking into people as my tail swished behind me
I tried not to look away from my phone to distract myself from all the stares from people who were sharing a car with a big ass bird
And I got off at my stop
Late
Running
Late
Always running late for every meeting
But I’m running
Then I’m flying
I forgot that I would be able to fly because I’m a giant bird
And I make it
To this tea shop
And my guest is already inside
And I feel myself freeze
Seeing her back to me
I’m not sure if I can bring myself to go in
She hasn’t seen me yet
The choice is up to me
Either I go in or I don’t
But do I let her see me like this?
Will she understand?
Will she be upset by me?
I don’t
Know
I look at my reflection in the window
All the colours and the feathers
Maybe she won’t notice
I look through myself and I stare at her back and I try to imagine her expression but I can’t
I feel myself start to leave but I stop myself
I bring myself back
And I push forward
The door chimes
I step in
And she turns to look at me.

“Hi mommy.”

This post was originally published on Instagram on January 13, 2022; now an excerpt from the stage play Never Walk Alone.