China Knowles—Tuesday Morning—I’m Fine

I am China—the girl who swallowed herself. I just opened my mouth one day and wrapped it around my ears and the rest of me. Now I live inside myself. I can knock on my rib cage when it’s time to go to bed. I can squeeze my own heart. When I fart, no one else can smell it.

I write poems.

They look like those Salvador Dalí paintings I saw in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

The Persistence of the Girl Who Swallowed Herself

Mouth forever too full to talk.

I saw inside everything

The whole world, a tiny galaxy, each cell of us.

I saw the universe.

I learned in English class about surrealists. It was the first time I wanted to throw myself up so I could be marked present. Surrealism turns the whole world upside down.

Anyway, I can’t throw myself up. Swallowing oneself is not easy to undo. Not even for roller-skating. Not even for one of Lansdale Cruise’s triple-cheese quiches.

It’s like jail but noisier and quieter at the same time.

I don’t need any bars. I don’t need any guards. I don’t even need a case file.

I’m fine.

I just swallowed one day and now I’m digesting. Constantly digesting.

Since the day I swallowed myself, I haven’t been in any trouble. I quit smoking. I don’t kiss any more boys. I got away from my skanky friends and I don’t log on to the Internet. It’s probably the best thing I ever did for myself apart from that time I ran from Irenic Brown last summer. But that’s another story, and girls who swallow themselves can’t tell stories. But I ran fast. I ran so, so fast.

The world is upside down unless I can find a way to turn myself right side out. Unless I can go back in time and stop the madmen.

How does an inside-out girl go about stopping all the madmen?

How does an inside-out girl go about turning back time?

I see Gustav on Tuesday morning during the bomb drill. He’s talking to Stanzi, my best friend, the girl who always wears her biology lab coat, even when she’s on the bus or at lunch. I always thought she was fat, but now I see she’s just big-boned. Before I swallowed myself I was a lot more judgmental.

Now I have more time to think.

I stand on my own and stare at the brick building. One hundred and twelve days in a row. I wish they’d just do it. I’m ready. Gustav told me in physics class yesterday that he’s not afraid to die. I thought about it all day. I think he’s bullshitting.

Gustav once wore snowshoes for a week because he learned about string theory and didn’t trust the molecular makeup of matter, and he says he’s not afraid to die? How can he think he’s fooling anyone? Everyone is afraid to die.