Today my legs are made of stone.

I can feel them dragging. They are heavier than usual and I wonder how I could not have noticed before. I touch my calf muscles and there is no give there, there is no softness.

There only the stone of skin, the stone of the flesh that hardens.

Sometimes I think that my muscles are like food that is left out over night.

It goes bad, it hardens and becomes something it is not, becomes something that reminds you of what it once was but it no longer resembles what you remember.

Sometimes I think that my body is a cocoon; that I am in a transitional phase and that my body is becoming, something beautiful on the inside working it’s way out.

Other times, I wonder if it is the reverse, whether or not the beauty on the outside is hardening what is inside me.