I never before realized what a sad thing a bellybutton could be. What I mean by that is it is the one thing on the human body that went from being the most important to the least. The belly button was the beginning of all things. It was the stem of nourishment. Now it is useless, a blemish on the skin, a reminder of our humble beginnings. It is insignificant to the other activities of the body. By that I mean it is aloof, it is quiet, and yet it is humble. I suppose the bellybutton knows it was once important. It seems now it is content just to collect lint.
I worry someday I will be a bellybutton. By that I mean I worry that someday I won’t matter. By that I mean I worry that I am already a bellybutton, that I was always a bellybutton. On Tuesdays I walk home from class past the 7/11. On Tuesdays I pass a homeless man with a sign that says Down on my Luck, Anything will Help. I wonder if he is a bellybutton. What I mean is he must have had someone that loved him once. What I mean is I don’t want to be alone.
Sometimes when it gets really late, and I still can’t sleep, and I hear my neighbors yelling, and I still pretend it’s their television, I make myself a cup of tea. I squint through the steam and I wonder how the bellybutton could once be so important and now not at all. I reflect on the fact that the bellybutton is underappreciated. And by that I mean everyone is a bellybutton.
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