Body
Canvas
James McIntire
"If you ever come back, we
will press charges." That was the threat given to me before they tossed me
out. The cosmetology department of the Hollander Skin Center didn't take too
kindly to my needs. Then again, no one seems to care about what I need. My
desires go unfulfilled while I suffer physically and emotionally. I had good
reason for sneaking into the Hollander Center. I had good reason for falsifying
my identity and hiding out in that surgical theatre. The effort it took to
secure a gurney and sheet. The look on everyone's face when they tossed back
that sheet. I could only meet them with a smile and hope they understood.
Well, now I’m back to square one.
Yet I am so close to finishing my life’s work. That was the tenth facility to
kick me out this month. No matter how I try to explain, they always say the
same things. “You’re perverted. You’re sick. Get help.” The thing is, I’m
trying to get help. But these twits don’t get the message. Even a mortician
struggled with the concept. He found me lying stiff on his table. When I smiled
at him he fell over all dramatic. He then pulled out a gun and forced me off
the premises.
I know this doesn't make any
sense but try to stay with me. You see, I need something to fill the hole.
There is a space that causes me to ache. I look in the mirror and I hate what I
see. There is so much potential for more. I can visualize the changes. I see
where the flaws vanish and the improvements begin. However, no one else can see
what I see. They look at me with such disdain and disgust. They judge me. Oh,
do they ever. I can hear them when they whisper their secrets. Like locusts in
the summertime, the buzzing rings in my ear and reveals an ultimate truth. I am
more than this sack of flesh and bone. Just because they don't get it doesn't
mean I'm wrong.
So, let me break from the
abstract and explain what it is I want, for your simple minds to understand. I
need surgery. But telling you the want isn’t enough. To understand my plight
and desires you need to understand the history.
Grade school is a good place to
start. I was what you might call fat. The other kids brutalized me back then.
But don't worry, it only strengthened my resolve. If you can survive being
force-fed dog feces, then anything else life throws at you is nothing. Kids
back then used to torture me. I was forced into the boy's bathroom by the older
boys. They beat and bloodied me. Their methods got more creative with each
school year. High school brought about the most intriguing forms of torture.
The instruments of pain always varied but imagination was never a limit. Do you
want to know what they used to carve their names into my flesh? The scars are
still there. I see them every day. The names of my emotional captors. Labeled
as property. When I articulated this to one of the Doctors, they begged me to
seek help. They never understand that theirs is the only therapy that can help
me.
As I got older I became obsessed
with physical fitness. I would hit the gym every day during college. My body
changed. I could not see traces of the fat kid anymore. However, my feelings
were still much the same. Probably because the scars were still visible. I did
everything I could to fight back the feelings. I even played some college
football. I was a wide receiver. Girls and guys all took interest in me. The
pressures of physical beauty were often plastic in their own way. I might have
looked confident, but I was still that awkward child. I was still that kid
having his pants dropped down in front of everyone in class. I was still that
kid with my head placed over the unflushed toilet. The mocking laughter haunts
my inner thoughts. All of it was too much. These people wanted physical
pleasure from me. I would try a couple of times only to reach a roadblock and
panic. I would stare in the mirror and still hate what I see.
I took up vomiting after every
meal in order to keep up my outer shell. Though I was no master of the sexual
arena, I wanted the attention of both guy and girl. But word was spreading of
my imperfections after each attempt of exploring physical pleasure. My body
would betray me. It would never rise to the occasion. Soon nothing I tried kept
me attractive to anyone. I stared at the canvas every night looking for the
answer. Vomiting up my meals was no longer viable. Physical fitness and
football were no longer logical. Something drastic had to happen.
I saw it one night when a moth
entered my dorm. I observed its elegance. The eyes of its wingspan observed my
despair. This creature came to me as a beacon of hope. This was my sign. Much
like the great monarch butterfly the ugly must emerge from its cocoon. How do I
get there?
Well, this is the part you want
to know. After all, it really is the good stuff. I had a dream after my
fluttering visitor came. I was naked and riddled with scars. The names of my
former attackers. Then blood rained down and I found myself inside of an
enclosed space with no exit. The blood filled the entire room. But I was not
afraid. Then something amazing happened. My flesh began to stretch and expand.
My arms were shaping into a wingspan. My legs twisted around each other to form
a sort of tail. My head morphed and stretched until I was the most beautiful
creature. Finally, I emerged with an explosion of blood and excess skin. I was
reborn. When I awoke it was the most disappointing time of my life. The goal
was not achieved save for simply a dream.
I emerged from the stinking
sheets of my sweaty bed. I stood stark naked before the mirror. Examining the
names of my tormentors on both my arms and body. With a rageful scream, I
punched the mirror. As glass shattered on impact, blood poured from my
knuckles. I watched it trickle until my palm was completely crimson. I felt no
pain as I picked up a shard of glass. I felt no pain still when I carved the
words "perfect art" onto my chest. My door swung open as other
students piled into my room after hearing the noise. They glimpsed true beauty
that night. I believe they understood. It was on their faces. The Dean didn't
understand and had me removed from campus.
So, now you know the history.
Let's swing back to the present. I've embraced my new goal. I have taken steps
to usher in the true beauty that is me. I will become a representation of my
truth. I made some progress early on. There were nights when I carved away some
imperfections. With that same mirror shard, I performed the ritual of removal.
Slicing away the dirty skin of my old self. I made room for the new me. But
this was not enough. I would look into other mirrors and still see what was
missing. The laughter and whispers of my critics rang out in my mind. My
motivation for all of this.
I snuck into hospitals. You know
that part. But yet you don't know what I did between then and now. If
professionals wouldn't help me with my problem then I would become self-taught.
The first man I abducted almost
got away. I had to kill him awkwardly right there in the park. Then I secured
the body in the trunk of my car and snuck him into my apartment. Luckily for
me, I live in an area where everyone minds their own business. Number one was
easier to deal with than number two. Number two begged me to stop. His life
faded as his voice grew softer. Using only the silent tools of a box cutter and
my precious mirror shard, I took what I needed from them. All three different
offerings provided me with fresh products for the canvas of my body.
I sew each new flap into its
appropriate position. I noticed that with each new piece, everything fit the
way it was meant to. This was destined. I know I am right. I know I am
beautiful. With that said, now it's time for you to know what I need from you.
You
stare at me as I hold you at knifepoint. I
wonder, what it is that scares you the most? Is it my appearance? Fear often
makes us confused and apprehensive towards things we do not understand. What
you see is perfection. My wingspan is very much real. My skirt hangs far below
my feet. You probably notice the extra arms. They do not function yet. My face
forever displays my satisfaction with the new me. Are you afraid of the knife?
Don't be so obtuse, I need you to help me. Stop shaking and crying. Listen to
me and you will be a part of something greater than anything you have ever done
with your miserable life. I chose you to help me! Stand up and stop sniveling!
Begging me won't do anything but anger me! Now look what you made me do. I cut
you a little but hey at least now you are more receptive.
That's much better. Now you are
getting it. You see me for the walking art that I am. You see the caked blood
for the garnish that it is. You see my eyes? Of course, you do. I made sure
everyone can see my eyes. I am no monster. I need to be sure you get that. I
need you to see the butterfly. I need you to see the swan. You are quiet,
that's good. That means you are listening. See past the fat kid being carved up
by the bully. See past the awkward post-teen failing to rise when he went down
on me. Put away the trauma and see the outcome. See the result of hard work. I.
Am. No. Monster. I am art. I am beauty. I walk these streets looking for
admiration. Soon, I will spread these wings and fly.
For now, I need you to tell my story.
I need you to take your phone and record this. There must be a living record of
my existence. Someone like me is once in a lifetime. Behold－beauty forged through pain and
modeled through the wisdom of time. Go on, record me. Do it! That's it, take your
grubby claws and reach for the phone. Record me as I spread my body. Behold,
true greatness. I did this and no one else.
Now watch as I do the
impossible. Keep recording, this is going to be talked about for years to come.
Behold this window from which I shall ascend the heavens. I shall fly through
the night. Keep recording! My feet are laced with an extra layer of skin much
like a pair of socks. They help me to maintain my grip. Now for the money shot.
Come closer now! That's it, good. Watch this. I will soar across the night and
everyone will rejoice in my grace.
***
I don't
know who they were, Officer. They came here and attacked several members of the
staff with a knife. I think they wanted me to write their story. I'm a reporter
and I think they wanted me to tell others about them. I will say this, I will
never forget what I saw tonight. I'm not even sure if it was still human. They
thought they could fly and for a second, I did too. But we know how that ended.
I'm a reporter. It is my job to tell people about this. In the end, I think
that's all they wanted.
