I want to be an artwork.
No, don’t say: You already are. You were molded to this shape and size, and every part of your body was created thoughtfully.
I already know that.
When I say I want to be an artwork, I mean, I want to feel like an artwork. I want to live like an artwork.
I want pictures to be taken not just of my face, but of the words behind my eyes;
Not just of my legs; but of the journeys they take;
Not just of my stomach; but of the things I hunger for and desire.
I want artistic x-rays to be conducted of me
Not just of my chest; but of the things that seize my heart;
Not just of my spinal cord; but of the things that support my very existence – and the people on whom I lean.
I want to be painted;
For bright colors to tell of my passions
And for dull colors to show the things I’m not very proud of.
I want to be a dance
So that I cause a stir,
Not just in the hands and legs of those who watch me, but in your hearts and actions.
I want to be music;
Healing and inspiring those who hear me.
And for there to be a melodious method to my interactions.
I want to be a story people write;
Whose plot never gets old.
I want to be an audio-visual-biblio-dramatic artwork.
I don’t even know what that means.
But I want to be such a great artwork that people would call me whatever I call me.