#the thing about Wolf is they are very confident and bold and also thirty anxieties previously unknown to humankind in a plastic trenchcoat

[magnolia-sunrise]

as is usual, im once again thinking about Wolfgang and specifically their headspace within their most vulnerable moments since thats all i keep drawing this month, and it has me in a lot of contemplative moods about things like, well,

imagine the new raw levels of self consciousness you would acquire if you were awake for someone performing surgery on you. with physical pain somewhat dulled, all of the internal alarms advising against this bypassed, making way for different and new sensations instead, and the feelings of -what if they judge you for how gross and disgusting it all is- somehow so much sharper. imagine being a conscious participant in that, time and time again unveiling your own skin and having to deal with being perceived in the most heart piercing vulnerable way. even when your insides aren't full of slick organs and mucus and viscera, its artificial muscle and vessels carrying something approximating blood, and cables carrying information and impulses simulating nerve system and metal protecting processing units - you weren't supposed to be able to see any of it, everyone else has their mind and body shut off for mechanic work for good reasons!

and how insane it must feel to lay yourself bare like this in front of a stranger who later becomes a trusted friend, who becomes someone you adore, whose hands so gently but efficiently touch your body in places no one else can. how only he sees the internal scars from years and years of damage and repairs as well as the deliberate scars from moulding the body to fit your gender that aren't apparent to anyone who doesn't know where to look. and how your body and mind remember the sensations and emotions of it, the irrational shame met with steady kindness and care. how the mechanic doesn't question the decision, why you must be awake for this, why you must remember this, grotesque as it is. i think about the sheer amount of blind trust and intimacy involved and it makes me throw up. how can you go back from that? and what do you do when your feelings and communication get so complicated this becomes a love language in itself?

i think about it so much, i think about how it feels for them and how their impulse is to immediately distract from their anxiety with bravado and flirting but it doesnt really help. asking "do you also perversely enjoy this" doesn't fully mask the underlying subtext of please don't find me too unsightly, i couldn't bear it.