Is This Too Personal?
People tell me I eat too fast. People tell me I eat too slow.
They whisper, “She is fat.” They yell, “She is too skinny!”
I am told I do not need make-up to be pretty. But when I do not wear it they ask me why.
Why?
I sit here, in solitude, pinching my sides and leaving bruises because at least that is consistent.
It is not that I want to be alone. I want to get away from you.
Because you throw paper airplanes at my head, telling me everything that is wrong with me.
Airplanes that I can never fly off to an unknown world on.
I confessed to you that I am having trouble, and you laugh right in my face.
Because for some reason, my feelings are irrelevant, I am irrelevant.
Is this because I will never be who you want me to be?
Because I am not smart enough, I don’t know how to read your mind- I was never taught the art of worshiping you.
Sometimes I close my hands around my throat, making it difficult to breathe, simply so I might emulate the chokehold that you have on me.
Because I cannot live without you, but I cannot live with you either. My insecurities boil over, spilling all over the floor. The scalding water never felt so good, burning my flesh.
But I do not do it when you are looking, because I know you would judge me harshly. Not because it is bad for me- because maybe it is, I will admit to that much..
But you would judge me because that means I am thinking too much about myself, as I always have.
I need to think of others, put their needs before mine. If they need to eat, I shall starve and waste away because they are simply more important than I am.
I often think of how things would be, if you understood. I wish you would hold me, cradle me in your arms- as a mother would.
But you pinch at my sides, leaving bruises- at least that is consistent.
I have come to the realization that you will never be satisfied by anything I do.
That does not change a thing.
I will not be content, because I crave your attention- the same way I crave that everlasting feeling of digging holes in my skin.
I want it so desperately, I do not even consider the consequences.
That I will only be hurt as you fail to love me the way I love you.
That the holes in my skin will bleed out onto the floor and leave me wasted, nothing left.
But I crave the consequences too, I suppose. That is the way my world works.
I want to get away from you and the toxicity you bring.
But please, (never) leave my side.
For I could (not) live without you.
I hope this is not too personal, and I have not scared you away.
It is just the way I feel for you, and the way you put me down.
Don’t stop.
Please,
Stop.