Okay so Expectations is going to be a series of short comics about bodies and emotions.
I have carried my body like a crucifix from day to day, city to city, year to year, past a hundred thousand train station barriers, and every day my journey terminates here. Naked, kneeling, in front of the mirror .
I sculpt my waist like porcelain clay; rough white stone inlaid with veined silver stretchmarks. Fat thighs melt in the kiln of my grip, become bones, bones, bones.
With the sandpaper pads of my thumb, I plane sharp angles into the lines of my face. Shadows hang where flesh once bloomed.
My fingers unpick stitches.
I will feel my bones, I will see my heart, that ruby pincushion in my chest, stuck with needles, red with grief.
Mother Mary, tear me down. I press on the meeting of my thighs until the shape is plain, pretty, and undefinable, silk-smooth, genderless.
The incredibly talented Quen Took wrote a piece inspired by my comic.
I love it.
'My fingers unpick stitches.'