bugs in the garden - Ellie Aispuro

and i feel it in the base of my belly. an uncomfortable itch burrowed so far beneath layers of skin and fat and muscle—taunting me, as if to say look how close you are to me. so familiar a feel, i’ve carried this with me for so long, i wonder if i could even remember what it must’ve felt like living without it. dormant like a thriving parasite. i doubt it even bothered me then. but now there’s an animalistic urge to rid myself of it, rid my body clean of its remnants, to rid of such a rooted parasitic feeling. i want to scratch at my skin and tear back layers of flesh, reveal the vulnerability of my being, make a mess of myself and gnaw at it if i must, until i can see through the carnage and look deep within myself to reach my problem. i want to scream until my lungs are fully out of air and my throat is raw and ragged. i feel its poison lingering and wonder, if by some sick twist of my ill-fated stars, if perhaps this is my introduction to motherhood. if i am to birth the personified parasite into this world.

because as wretched a thing i carry is, it is mine. it is the fear and judgment and anger and envy that i can’t rid myself of. it is the many years of therapy failing as i struggle to cope. it is the prescription pills never being enough. it is the thing i scratched from my mother’s womb; the thing she scratched from her mother’s womb; who scratched it from her mother’s womb. it is unlike a curse thrown on a whim, it is unlike the effort of destruction. a natural sadness that has been with me longer than i’ve been physical in this world.

so. i will plant seeds in my life and mother the flowers of myself. i will help my loved ones grow beyond their leaves. maybe i’ll harvest something truly good, maybe the hard work of harvesting will be the good thing. and perhaps my parasite will thrive alongside myself and perhaps one day it’ll no longer have its needs met. i know this decision to flower and bloom in spite of it all will be a lifelong commitment, but i am the only one pruning my own leaves. i think i owe it to myself.

Ellie Aispuro is a young writer from the sunny coastal city of Long Beach, CA, who spends her free time talking to her garden, receiving messages through her tarot deck, raising her two fur-daughters, and perfecting her banana bread recipe. And when the timing is right, she even enjoys creating liminal spaces through her writings.