Utopia Dermatitis

Raya | Date: Dec 12, 2024, 1:38 PM | Last Updated: Dec 12, 2024, 1:38 PM

…The next morning, I woke up with flowers growing out of my skin, bright blue vines and petals, with blue blots surrounding it contrasting with the skin I had worn all my life. I panicked! Like any rational person would do–I ripped, pulled, and scratched at the flora but somehow it only felt as if they had lodged deeper into the veins in my arm, and the ironically beautiful lavender smell emanating off of them only became more prominent. With my arms being the only place I could see the flora, I dawned the biggest shirt I could find–darting out of my house without bothering to do as much as brush my teeth–. The world was as I had left it the day before, nothing was amiss except for myself. Panic-stricken, I ran straight to the doctor, my sweat and fear only making things worse as I was told to wait, what is wrong with me? I was too scared to show the receptionist this infection of sorts–if anything I feared I’d collapse if I glanced at the flowers' progress across my skin since I left the house. With my enemy as my own skin I had no counter that wouldn’t further hurt myself, I was stuck–with every thought, every brush of the petals against my skin under my shirt making me feel worse. I was petrified, I needed help. That’s when I felt a relief but also increased worry as I went to see the doctor. I sat on his desk and removed my shirt, seeing now that the flowers had spread up my forearm to my shoulder and my chest. I was every synonym of scared that you can think of, I just wanted to hear what the doctor had to say.

“You’re fine.” 

“What?”

“There’s nothing there.” 

Am I going insane? I was back on the street within the minute, my body feeling colder and more numb as I went to school, feeling petals poke out from under my shirt’s collar. I got no stares, no looks, no concerns. Is there anyone out there who can see these petals ravaging my skin? Every worry and anxiety gives it more power over me. When pleading about the flower didn’t seem to merit anything, when no one could see it besides myself I truly began to wonder for my sanity. I stopped talking about my skin and just my feelings. Responses like “Just drink some water, you’re fine.” or “You’re a man, walk it off, you’re fine.”

I am fine then, right? I must be. As I lie there curled in a bathroom stall for 20 minutes, those affirmations are filling my head as much as the flowers continue to coat my skin, that sweet lavender scent... When my vision itself begins to have a partial blue tint to it, all I can do to avoid it is close my eyes. Silence, BREATHE. I never appear nervous, I never appear sad, I never appear weak. I talk with my brain after all and not with my heart, not with my feelings. I’d say I am depressed, I’d say I am nervous, but why would I do that? Why should I feel bad about what happens to me when I can just keep going? Things will be fine, I am fine. My senses feel reinvigorated as my vision is back in full colour, I check my arms, my neck, my back and my face, brown. I get up and walk out like nothing happened, to everyone else, that was already the case before. Happiness felt unfamiliar the first time it washed over me. Right afterwards, I hung out with friends–we laughed, talked, I felt alive! This is what life was about, every novelty, every experience, it all serves a purpose, things will always work out for me–that’s why I was fine when I failed my 3rd unit test in a row that afternoon, when some person bullied me on social media after school, and when I tripped and fell on my face on the walk home! I lied–these flowers have been ravaging me for years, everyday I experience the circle of life on my body, as do so many other men like me, the cycle will continue.

This evening, I went to bed with my body devoid of flora. I know I will be fine. After all, if no one looks at the flowers on my skin, were they even there in the first place?

With that, I went to bed…