Unicorn Gum

Chew on that

Bianca Llerena

My friends tell me I look nice, (I’m wearing a blouse I found hidden behind my pile of laundry), but the mirror in front of me sings a different song.

I plan my week based on the days I’ll be sick; those days where my stomach will cramp from anxiety, those days I know my hair won’t look right because I showered the night before and didn’t have time to straighten it before class. Those days I’ll be brushing my teeth in the bathroom, standing a little too close to my reflection, giving myself a headache.

The months start to blur as every day is an avalanche of myself. I catch a reflection in the microwave as I rewarm an old cup of coffee and I have to remember that the microwave glass distorts me. No wonder I need the coffee, I am so tired from thinking about myself all the time.

Some days, the special ones when the people I love stand close by, and the sun is warmer than usual, and I happen to forget to see what I look like before I leave the house because I have somewhere important to be. Those days I wish I could collect like rainfall. And I wish that rain didn’t feel so scarce.

If I did manage to collect them somehow, I’d turn them into gum. It would have all of the flavors and colors, it would be sweet and sour like candy, and I would carry it around in my pocket in case I ever felt sick again. And I would chew it until that feeling was gone. 

And I know it sounds crazy, but those days when I feel the snow and rocks starting to pile down on me, I pretend I have that unicorn gum with me, and I chew it until it all melts away.