This girl I met in the bathroom at the bar put glitter on my eyes.
I only met her 2 min ago as we passed at the stall.
When I came out she was reapplying her lipstick and she casually says
"I think this would look so good on you"
She walks over and gently rests her hand on my cheek as she puts it over my eyelids,
I see stars fall out of my eyelashes
And she says
"Amazing. It was meant for you"
She tells the girl behind me she loves her hair color
And we all trade smiles.

This is the universal language of a woman.

I found you in a hand lotion today.
This is the first year since you've been gone and the first year that Ive been present in this life that Ive had such a strong moment, seeing your face in my mind. I forgot all about it, and you. The garden, the pool, the twinkle in your eyes, your beautiful jewellery that always made me feel excited to be feminine, and one day all grown up. With my own lipstick and perfectly curled hair, sitting on my couch, one leg over the other, hands on my lap.
Like a lady.

Sometimes I spend too much time
Writing lists
Hoping it will help my brain
Organize all of these thoughts
That never seem to stay in one place
For very long.
Sometimes I don't eat, so I can feel
That familiar empty
Hollow
Space
Inside of me
That reminds me of when I had
So much focus and only one thought.
"Stay in control".
Sometimes I eat everything
That makes me feel sick.
So I can remember that I am
A waste
Out of control
Disgusting.
Every word I write screams
"LOOK AT ME"
And its just
Too loud.
So if I direct the letters into words that dont resemble the hurt then maybe it will quiet down and I can get back to the routine I have so lovingly crafted
From day one.

I daydream of an alternate universe where I breathe steady, and all the names of my resentments dont exist. Where the voice inside my head that says Im unlovable, doesnt sit just below the surface - hitting every loving word away with a baseball bat.

Its a space where I my skin drinks in real connection like its the first sunny day after a long winter. It doesnt hide anymore, my entire body welcomes kindness in like its an old friend. My days and nights melt together like a run on sentence, about the stars and everything that makes me feel like gravity doesnt exist.

I cant find joy anymore.
I have looked under every rock,
And behind every tree.
Ive searched through fields.

I dont know when she left,
I just remember waking up one morning feeling a little emptier
And a little more lost.

Its been cloudy every day since.

It has taken me twenty years to finally understand the beginning of what I am worth.

It is not 2pm boredom that turns into pretending to be different people to strangers on the internet.
It is not bruises on the inside of my thighs.
Its not 4am lines with people I dont know, but insist are my best friends.
It is not selfies meant to entice and draw in whoever likes the shape of me
And wonders what the scent of my skin is.

It is not "If you love me, you would do this for me".
Its not drowning out the inner voice that has been taught to speak by everyone who didn't understand -
How to love.
That I was a human being.
They are weak for needing to hurt me.

All of my words are foggy and I can't seem to find the right combination, to build the truth I keep digging for. Only broken bridges come out of this mouth. They lead you over waterfalls and into dense forests, filled with trees my past has grown for me. Trees that have rooted themselves deep inside of me. Ive become so enmeshed, I cant tell where the roots end and my limbs begin.

Ive wrapped this rope around my neck hoping that it will pull me out of this dark cavern of a soul,
not thinking about the possibility of it strangling me on the way up.
I crave chaos and fire deep in my gut, I live off of gasoline and insanity.
I grab at whatever strand I can find, tying bows until it looks like the cutest little tangled up mess.

Admitting powerlessness does not =
Giving up.
Asking for help does not =
Weakness.

I will turn this rope into the softest golden thread, and weave in the most incredible love anyone has ever seen.

If I don't use destructive coping mechanisms simply out of fear of rejection, abandonment or judgment..
Am I still succeeding?

Tell me why you think Im interesting and why it draws you to me. Laugh at my stupid jokes. Listen to the words I say. Listen to the words I dont say. Tell me you dont feel that way about me. Tell me you could never love someone like me. Tell me you just want to ****. Remind me that I am merely a prop to be put out on display, for you to stare at and imagine me doing all of the things you could never get your wife to do. I can be that dream girl, the one whos body feels like all of the feelings but never speaks of them.
What did she call it?
Manic pixie dream girl...
I set you up for a good story, that you look back on every now and then when you're up late or lonely or bored. I can be that story about that girl you once held next to you and escaped with. The one who wasnt anything to you, who listened to you talk about the sadness and heaviness that has taken over your life as you slowly made all the proper decisions in the right order.
How you're empty,
And men can't be empty.
So just like its up to you to care for your family and be a responsible adult
It is up to me to fill you up with what
I have left.
Thats what Im here for, I guess.

Most peoples parents taught them
How to
Get good grades
Make friends
Get a job
Love.
Raise families.

All I learned was
Repeated destructive behaviours
How to let depression take over
Ways to punish myself with
People
Food
Substances.
I learned how to hate myself with the most passion Ive ever had for anything.

Most people are born with their moms eyes, and their dads nose.

I was born with my Moms self esteem and my Dads suicidal tendencies.
I inherited my Nana's intensity, desperation and mood swings.
I have my Papa's naivety and denial.

How did you get so lucky?

My body is not a gift
Given to you because
You deserve it.
I will never say
"Good job!"
Or
"Congratulations"
By unveiling my skin and
Offering my insides as a way to say
I am here for just you.

When I touch you,
I want it to be because of an
Unstoppable current of electricity
That needs our limbs to connect.
When I kiss you,
I want it to be because I can't find
Any words
But desperately need you to know
How I feel.

When I am here for you,
Its for me
Too.

I woke up half dead once.
Back when time was infinite and I believed in love;
I saw you.
The unbearable lightness of seeing you in your perfect glow,
Everything had stopped.
I was wrapped up in a moment.
Paralyzed, time was rushing through me in a tidal wave of past and present.
Had we known eachother before?
Deja vu blurred the lines between fact and fiction.
My heart sang the song of the universe,
Drowning the rest out.

Yeah. I woke up half dead once.

I am light and love
I am sickness and health
I am scars and scabs and holes
I am hollow and as soft as a feather
I am sweet and I am distant
I am ups and I am downs
I am moonlight and intense heat
I am the biggest, burning star
On this stretched out skin
With these fingertips full of life
And this voice dripping with
Insecurity
Curiosity
And the power to heal
Herself.

I'll never tell you this but,
I am still mad at you for not seeing me
When I needed you to see me.

I learned that I had to earn your love
From a very young age,
And it's grown into a blooming
Resentment
That tells me you're not safe.

I feel the feelings.
I ignore the feelings.
I set the feelings on fire.
Mourn the feelings,
Share the feelings,
Bury and forget the feelings.

Weeks of my childhood turned into
A waiting game over which parent would remember our existence first.
Would it be him with the tired, wet eyes. With the rough, accusing voice. Or would it be her, with the broken heart and the soft touch.
Would this be the week that I didnt see him? Just a closed bedroom door and quiet footsteps in the middle of the night.

I've spent my entire life telling myself
That tomorrow will be the day that you love me.

29 yrs in, and I think I feel ready to tell you -

Im not invisible. You lied.

I want to be happy and free more than I want moments of relief.
-  I am capable of living my best life
- I can love other humans
- I can love myself
- I am ending the family tradition of neglect and unhealthy fears.
- I am worthy of a peaceful life.
- I am done suffering.
- I want to live.

That makes it look pretty simple, hey?

I used to say
"If that isn't love,
Then I don't know what is."

And then I realized,
I don't know what love is.

Theres a constant itch from the inside out, and it feels like I've been swallowing mouthfuls of the blackest ink
for a lifetime now.
It runs down my throat, coating the words that have been carved into me.

Sometimes I can't see myself anymore. My hands become someone elses and my skin feels like
Static.

How did I get here?
Ive spent years dusting my body for fingerprints, trying to put together the unknown.
But every night I go to sleep,
I wake up asking the same questions.
With a glass of black ink sitting next to my bed, a note stuck to it saying -
"Drink me"

Everywhere they touched me and branded me with their hurt,
You take your hands and pour them onto every inch of me
Saying the "Im sorry" they will
Never give me.
The "I love you" with meaning
And the warmth without the burn.

I will never shrink myself
To a size that makes
You
More comfortable.
In fact,
I will continue to grow
Loudly.

With every word that comes out of that sweet pink mouth I feel my body shrink, and shrink. Before I know it my vision is blurred, and my chest is just an open, bottomless pit.

And I want more. Do it more.
Let's move backwards in time
Until I don't exist.

Every other woman comes before his own daughter.
They have so much more to offer.
What good is a woman he can't touch?
I am always too much and never enough.

Forgiving my father without hearing him say "I'm sorry"
Is my super power.

The girl in the mirror looks like someone I met in another lifetime,
I forget almost everything about her.

You're it.

And I dont know if thats just my inner child talking or if its my real heart. Thats where it gets so confused. All of the time. So confused.
Am I just living out this deja vu script my family wrote out for me even before I was born.

Or is it love.

I always said love was freedom but that was the first thing I gave you and now Im left with nothing.

Love plus love doesnt seem to equal love, somehow.

I was never good at math.

I never asked to be the person our family dysfunction ended with.
I dont want to be in charge of
"Ending the cycle"

Someone else should do it.

Im tired and worn down,
Losing layers of my own skin
Over all of your hurt
Is too much.

I am an abandoned library filled with dust covered books containing all of the things I have ever dreamt I could be. The sunbeams highlight the shelves, and create little pockets of life where you can watch the dust dance around, and celebrate all of this space Ive allowed them to build their homes.
Sometimes when I feel quiet, I walk down the rows of stories and graze each one as I pass by.
As if it was possible to soak up those words through my fingertips and become all the things I could never quite form into a reality.

I am the middle child,
Stuck between the naivety
Of nostalgia,
And the hardness
Of trauma.
The biggest problem is -
Both pull me backwards.

I often stare at whatever food I have infront of me and think to myself,
Why do people say we need to be fed when feeding myself makes me feel so weak and invisible.
When my insides feel empty is when I feel strongest.
The sounds that escape my belly are my war cry.
When she screams, she feels nothing.

I will never use
"Im so lucky"
As a reason for my success
Ever again.
My only reason now is,
Because I wanted to.

I have worked very hard at keeping
My shame hidden, and wrapped up
With a neat little bow.
I am a professional at
Sweeping things under the rug,
With 29 years of experience.

Sometimes, when I forget to be careful,
Someone will remember it for me,
And Ill hear them say the words.
Multiple stab wounds.
If I keep that box tied as tight as possible,
If I pretend the past is not a thing,
And that I was born only 7 and a half months ago,
They can't catch me off guard.
Thats when it hurts the most,
When it comes from behind. Unexpectedly.

You meant it when you said you weren't afraid of me, but I didn't know it also meant not afraid to forget.

Every bit of pain I felt as a child
And worked my whole life to forget
Is floating to the surface at an
Alarming rate.

All of my feelings are rushing around inside of me and I feel like I dont have even a moment to find the pockets of silence I know exist, but that hide so deeply in the darkest corners.
My chest hurts from dry heaving all morning trying to get that black mold out of my body. Its clinging to my ribs,
Im its only chance of survival.
This is the point where I would usually slide into its arms and allow it to warm me up, and console me,
Before it destroys me completely.
Now that I know I can do better, the fight is harder than before.
I cant let myself give up now.
But I want to.

Being small never suited me and being anything besides indulgent and in constant search mode sounds like the worst way to live
So I'm just gonna do the thing I've always done and feel the things I love to feel then feel what I hate feeling and one day when I'm old or in that moment before I fall off a cliff, or walk into the street not noticing the car begging to meet me - I'll just think wow, she really spent her life in the center of the things the rest of them were afraid of.

You always know when I am
At my lowest
And most vulnerable.
You crawl in so delicately
With the most peaceful offerings
Of comfort.

I wish you would stop.

Im afraid that if I allow those feelings
To surface,
They will be as consistent as they used to be.
And Ill go back to feeling that
Fear
And deep burning in the pit of my stomach.
I have spent years medicating
Myself so that I never have to
Feel, hear, taste or smell them again.
Now that I dont have my go to solution
What do I replace it with?
I dont know who I am
When Im not numb.

Ive been learning to love myself for a year, so why is she deciding to fight back now? We had relief, some calm.
Now the bones are rattling and the screams are crawling up my veins.

She keeps telling me that Im alone
And that its over.

I wonder who taught me that the way to deal with the
Emptiness
Is by pouring more of myself out.
When I hate myself the most
Is when I spend the most time handing my body
Mind
And insides
Out to whoever will destroy them the hardest.

I am drowning in other people and none of them will throw me a rope.

Sometimes I think about what it
Would be like if I opened the car door
While we are moving.
How badly does pavement burn?

Then I lock the doors.

The seasons pour out of my joints and run down every limb.
My leaves grow out of my eyes and mouth and ears,
The branches wrap around every inch of my soiled skin

And she breathes.

Why do I continue to pour from my empty cup when everyone has warned me not to.
If someone asked me to jump off a bridge would I do it?
Maybe.
If someone dangles some temporary validation in front of me
I break out into an instant jog.
I am a tool used to boost egos
And heal wounds.
No one notices I'm just taking them and wearing them as my own.

And I am so tired.

The bones are breaking.

Sometimes when I'm all alone
And my heart has quieted to a whisper
You can hear them creak and groan
Like an old ship
That's carrying too much
And has crashed one too many times

My body feels bulky
And my insides feel like they are
Detached,
Floating around me
And not sure where to land.

I am not myself today.

For the last 3 weeks, whenever 4am comes around,
My eyes open and everything around me looks foreign.
It feels like Ive just spent 5 hours outside of my body, and whenever I dive back into it I need to double check my surroundings
To make sure Im home.
Where do I go during that time?
I can never remember.

Little k, you sweet precious being. I will tell you everyday till we die, how your worth is infinite and not determined by other peoples insecurities. Everyday you wake up and decide to continue, you win. Your heart has been broken and glued back together so many times, and Ive never seen anything more beautiful.

Fear spills into me, and soaks through every ***** like ink makes its way through paper. So effortless. Without hesitating.
I wonder if healing will ever feel less like dying.
Ive inhaled so much poison my lungs are nothing but corrupted flesh, Ive set fire to my stomach hoping that it will **** whatever is in there, eating me from the inside out.
None of it works.

Taking one last step and realizing there are none left.
Dreaming that you're falling and waking up seconds before you collide with the ground.
The last second before you jump off a diving board.
When you climb to the top of a tree and look down.
When you gulp back that last breath before letting the ocean pull you under the surface.

Waking up.

I caught a glimpse of a withering flower,
And I was embarassed by its honesty -
Its lack of hesitance to commit to something
Ive always thought to be so frightening.
I watched its petals curl into a position
That was vulnerable, and unwise.
The edges of its leaves wrinkled and lost its color,
And yet
I saw beauty.
I watched it dying,
Following the path that fate seemed to have drawn out long ago.
I blinked once, maybe twice.
And it was gone.
Life was over, all that was left
Was dirt.
What would I do now?
What is left in this world?
I felt my time had been wasted,
Searching for answers that are completely buried now.

I wept for that flower. For myself.

I then opened my eyes, and saw something bursting through the cold ground.
There was a brightness I had never felt before.
It was the same flower,
But it felt different.
Warm.

I begged for the flowers forgiveness
Confessing my weaknesses.
Spilling out my darkness into its
Soft, pure petals.

Immediately regretting my eagerness to reveal myself,
I expected to focus back onto a flower that would be destroyed again.
But she opened up,
The silk petals wiped me clean.
She sent me off to start over,
Just as she had shown me to.