Like i’m here, but i’m not. like someone cares. but they don’t. like i belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air. i consider the streets beyond, bleak as the bleached bones of wilderness scaffolding my heart. just a stone’s throw away.
but she’s out there, stalking me, hunting me. i know she can’t get me in here. besides, i’m too tired to pick myself up and make a break for it. so i just sit here, brain wobbling. tripping. tripping on prozac.
i took off all my clothes looked straight at the mirror and repeated i love myself i love myself i love myself as if i truly believed it like a stranger in my skin i imagined what other people see the words blended together and melted like butter my mind tricked itself into thinking i had never looked at my reflection and thought it was gross i made myself lie and then i put my clothes on brushed my hair and turned off the light.