Chunks of My Ear Are Coming Off…

I wish I had a joke for this.

Last night, another chunk of my ear cartilage came off in my sleep.

The tip of my ear is consumed by a cancer that doesn’t heal.

So when I lose a piece of it, I lose part of my ear too. Every time.

And fuck—it’s not even poetic.

It’s not a metaphor.

It’s a real piece of my body, ripped off by my pillow or by time or by whatever happens when your skin keeps trying to heal and just can’t.

I lose more pieces of myself every day.

It landed next to my head like an ugly little calling card:

Still here. Still rotting. Will miss you.

Tonight, I hit the same ear with a roll of medical tape.

Didn’t mean to.

I was trying to help myself. Tape up a wound. Organize a dressing.

Survive.

And the damn thing flung backward and clocked me.

I almost laughed, but…

I hit the open cancer again, and it started bleeding. Fast. Angry. Painful.