I don’t know you anymore.
Your mind is gone,
Your body a hollow shell.
I dream about you,
But I’m reality,
Who are you?
Who are you now if not yourself.
I miss you.

I confess.
I am in dyer need to hurt,
I miss the pain.

I admit,
i still cry every night.

I must say,
The dreams have never stopped.

But when, tell me when.
Will it stop?
When will these thought disappear,
Can I go too?

It’s not just the blades.
Its hands,
It’s nails,
Binging,
Vomiting,
Starving,
Alcohol,
Fighting,
Punching,
­Biting,
Isolation,
Reliving,
Remembering.
Self harm is not just blades.

My mother treats me as if I am 2 different people.
My mental health,
And the child.
I do not exist in her mind.
I am broken,
Useless.
I am not me.
I’m not allowed to be me.
“You will be the happy girl you used to be.”
This is me Mom. This is it. My mental health is part of me. There is no going back.

And it is today I realized,
I’m not going to recover.

Let me enjoy the silence.
The silence of screaming,
Hitting,
Crying,
Cutting,
The silence of starvation.
If I stay silent,
No one will come for me.
No one will know my secrets.

I feel like,
I am lying on a table.
Slit down my middle,
My family,
Friends,
Doctors,
And therapists.
Peering inside me.
Looking for the cause.
But the cause was me.
I am the problem.
They were looking right at it the whole time.