They say,
If you are comfortable
in your own skin,
you will never be lonely

I tell them,
It's not that I am uncomfortable,
it's just that my own beating heart
is not loud enough
to echo off the walls
of my too-small apartment
on Saturday nights
when the city
is just starting
to wake up

They say,
You should not crave
a relationship
to fill the hole of loneliness

I tell them,
I do not crave him
for the sake of company,
because I breathe on my own terms
and I yearn for his presence
no matter who is around

They say,
Loneliness can be cured
by looking inside yourself

I tell them,
I have looked,
and I see a girl
the rest of the world
should miss when she's away,
but whose absence
never seems to be noticed

A few months ago
I found comfort in walking
dangerous streets
alone
drunk
tired
upset

I could have walked
for hours
because the feeling
of something possibly going wrong
soothed me

Perhaps whatever I may have met
on those dangerous streets
would have been more real
more terrifying
than the monsters I faced
with closed eyes
and a clenched jaw
each night
and every morning

I no longer
see those streets
with blurred vision
but instead eyes
that cannot look in as many directions
as I would like
because that gum wrapper
might not be
what I think it is

Maybe my fears are fading,
no longer stored inside
where no one can see them

Maybe my walls have broken
and I feel too vulnerable
to face anyone I may encounter
because I am not confident
that anyone else
would come
to my rescue

The worst thing that could happen
is that one day
I wake up
and don't know who I am

The worst thing
would be when I look down
and no longer recognize
the road beneath my feet

What if I've been wrong--
what if I'm not going where I'm meant to go?
What if my entire life,
my ears have been ringing
with lies?

What if, they tell me
What if you're turning Nothing
into the ultimate Something?

You're probably right, I say,
hiding shaking hands and uncertain eyes

I remember there was a time in my life
when He gave me guidance
and told me that the road was set,
it was just my job to run

I used to run outside until I got hurt,
and since then I've forgotten what it feels like
to press your feet against asphalt
and let yourself fly,
if only for a few seconds at a time

I have forgotten the joy
in feeling productive pain
and I have forgotten to remind myself
that there cannot be progress
in the shape of perfection

They say,
Time heals all wounds,
but even my deepest paper cuts
would not begin to bleed
and so the pain would wear on
and the scab would never form
and I was never able to expel the venom
buried deep inside.

You cannot always feel the bruises,
but sometimes I push on them to feel the pain.

You cannot always see the bruises,
but that doesn't mean it hurts any less.

I dug the knife into my skin,
then asked you to pull it out
and you did not do it the way I hoped.

You did not make a clean cut,
but twisted it, ever so slightly,
and the **** was bigger than before.

I do not blame you for my injury,
and with all that time you spent in hospitals,
I guess I thought you would be better at healing.

I cannot speak to the future,
and I wish not to think of my dreams.
I had plans for the two of us
that your arms could not wrap around
and God, I wish they were holding me.

Perhaps the tears need to fall
to replace the blood I never lost,
and perhaps the pain that hurts the most
are the hopes I keep inside.

Eating is hard.
Not eating is hard.
It’s hard to be hungry,
and it’s even harder to be full.
It’s hard to say yes to food,
and to say no.
It’s hard to eat foods you know you shouldn't,
and not eat foods you know you should.
It’s hard to stare down a full plate and think,
“How am I supposed to do this?”
and it’s hard to stare down an empty one thinking,
“What have I done?”
Food is hard to deal with,
once you make it a situation
rather than a necessity.
Breakfast is hard,
lunch is harder,
and dinner is the hardest.
But maybe looking in the mirror is the hardest of all.