Skinhenge

My arm served as a feast for mosquitoes. They came with the laundry. I can't sleep anymore. That's okay, I've been sleeping light these days anyway. I feel flushed everytime. This is how it feels to be naked. I feel so vulnerable. As if the whole world knows my secret. But what really happened was that I told my secret to my secret. I don't know who else she told. The moon has been dogging my progress since Monday.

I would like to wonder and wish as I've been doing since my great Makiling misadventure. But I still have some itches to scratch. There is a circle of bites on my left arm. I imagine tribes of mosquitoes conducting Walpurgis-nacht on the mountain of my arm. But, before the feast, a select group of mosquito-priests congregated earlier to clandestinely erect these skinhenges. Amusing really.

They took my mind off some things. I wonder if the point of their miniscule, infernal rites was to amuse and distract their earth. Well done then, children of my night.

My left knee's better now. I did not go to a doctor. Such pride eh? Maybe the pain will fully disappear by next week. I can walk fine now but stairs still bother me. I think this pain will disappear then gradually return when I am old along. It will bring with it all the fun memories surrounding its acquisition.

That's something to look forward to, I guess. Memories for an old, secretless age.