I swear to you, I tried to forget. I've tried to forget it every morning, even the ones that hold me down, smother me under blankets and beg me to stay. I've been trying to forget for a while now, but it's exhausting work when you're on your own at 2am. It's wrapped its roots around my ribcage and sprouted thorny, wilted flowers just below my collarbones. It's tightening around my neck, making me choke on words and spit out false pleasantries to people who care. And when she asked me What Has Changed, I looked down at the twisting of my hands and said Everything.
Because there is a thought, a memory inside of me. It has buried itself so deep inside of my core that it runs along my arteries, as constant as my pulse. I try not to let it echo, but some days I am so quiet that the thought becomes a drumbeat that dictates the pace of my footsteps. It is all I am, somedays. Those are the days when my body aches for something more. They are the hours I want to be held. I want desperately to pull myself back, to reclaim my own before it disappears completely. But I am made up of so much water and uncertainty. My fingers slip through my veins and clutch at themselves. I am drowning myself and I cannot hold onto your breath for much longer.
Walking back from the doctors, wanting to claw at my skin, rip out the parts of me that I abhor. Do you know what it feels like to walk home on your own after something like that? Walking alone is a privilege to some, but I wake up abandoned. You spend the rest of your day thinking about how you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here. You burn up the clouds and poison the sky with the tears you hold back. Because everything feels wrong, you feel wrong, you feel nothing.
(I have acid rain in my mouth and it's killing the petals in my heart)
"You Are Strong, You Are Beautiful, You Are Not Alone."
She strung these pretty words around my frame, hoping to slow down the chill creeping its way into the creases of my eyes. How many times have I tried to tell someone about the Winter in my bones, tried to get them to see the Unloveable in my smile? And how many of those times have I ended feeling bitter, resenting them for making me feel like my pain doesn't have any substance after all? I desperately try to attach the way I feel onto those who will listen, because I need to say the words, need to feel that somebody understands just how angry and frightened I am. But they don't know the way things have been, the way it has structured my world. So I asked her if she had ever gone through what I'm going through and all she could say was, "no". That was the end of that.
Even now I need to reassure you I will be Fine. And I will be, eventually, but right now I am not and that is fine too. I have lost so much of myself (so much of someone) in these past few months that the days ahead are beginning to look menacing, threatening. They mock me, scream You Are Not Good Enough, and I am nodding my head and agreeing with them. I am too young to deal with this on my own, I wish you could see and understand that. But it's okay, it's okay, it's okay.