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It is a dream that I had once, I am being squeezed into a dark tunnel, looking up at the world. Then I realized it was the womb, a tunnel leading to the womb. Drifting through darkness and chaos, it is a tunnel leading to the mother’s womb, in the warm tides.
Ever since I was little, I always felt this strange effect of a quasi-membrane feeling between me and the world. It is like Slyvia Plath wrote in her novel The Bell Jar: the inability to construct relationships with others or communicate with the world, the numbness, the isolation, the entrapment. So profoundly that it forms a cocoon that enwrap me and ties me in my own world. I have to touch the world through this membrane. A membrane distances me and the others. My body touches, but there’s always a membrane. I always thought this membrane was a trust issue. However, I realized it is not trust, it is love.
Amniocentesis, a prenatal procedure that removes the fluid from a pregnant mother’s uterus using a needle. I always see my friends as the needle, a tender needle that pokes a hole in my membrane and yet at the same time, with strengths. The sharing experience, the fragile moment of getting hurt, and the connection between me and them, dissolving the membrane, and so as the self-isolation.
It is through building connections, the fragile or the joyful moment, that I realized that the membrane between me and the world is love. It is acknowledging that you want to be loved, acknowledging that you love others - love my friends, love my parents. Admitting that you love and want to be loved, that’s the membrane.
Love, Love is a verb. I want to return to the womb, the origin of love.