I feel my flesh move rivers
Staring down the clammy skin on my stomach
Looking into the face of a stranger
Body count?
Maybe four
I don't remember exactly
I put my legs up and let his body move like clockwork
It is the easiest position for me to detach
As far as I know, I keep watching the same movie
Man, in front of me
Man, ****** on
Man, inside of me
That is the moment I close my eyes
And stop watching.
That is the moment my PTSD tells me
I am not in control anymore
That is the moment I hold my breath
Dig my nails into his wrist
His throat
His eyes
So he will stop looking at me like that
So the world will stop looking at me like that
Sleeping with guys whose names you cannot remember
Makes you a **** these days
But blacking out does not always come from drinking.
He gets off
And rolls you to the bed of grass next door
He says
"That was fun."
You say
"Until next time."
And walk into the future
Onto the next one
Nameless, faceless
Leaving you
Naked, alone.

Three years ago, I first came out about what you did to me
You twisted my reality into knots too tight for me to undo
Two months ago, I began to remember more
Like my life was pulling a string,
Drawing my memories out of me
Because repression can only prove effective for you so long
You see, repression can only hide things until they come up
Books, movies, media
You see, repression can only hide things until you experience a similar circumstance once more
When I said no and he kept prying
You see, repression can only hide things until it can't
Until I can't hold back everything in my being
Because I want to cut my tongue out of my own mouth
As my voice begins to fail
As I realize there are men in this world who will not listen to me
As I was so confident and outspoken at one time
And now my meekness is the only suitable way for me to find a husband
I am only eighteen, and yet my voice trails off at the end of sentences
You finished them for me long ago
But my teenage years were considered a grace period
Society now tells me as I enter adulthood
It is my duty to be prim and proper
I am only as worthy as I am pretty and sweet
Because ladies are suppose to talk with the gentleness of flowers
The goodness of a saint
And the purity of the church steeple.
I have already killed those flowers
Hoodwinked the saint
And burnt the church down!
I will raise my fist and scream "*******!" to the world because it tells me I cannot
You make have spoken for me before
But I am taking my voice back
In a world that has every intention of keeping me silent.

Child,
Didn't they tell you this is only
Casual?
As he presses his body against your
You climb on top of him
As he becomes your mountain
You become his avalanche.

His fingertips electrocute you
With every touch
A spark ignites
Dancing across your neck
Tantalizing your stomach
Bursting on the surface of your legs

He makes every inch of you feel special.
You see his ex-lovers and feel insecure
He pilfers every ounce of doubt you ever felt
And molds it into trust.
Magical, it seems

His smile stretches your dimples
Across the globe
Makes your smile light from the inside
Out.

And suddenly,
Your falls disintegrate
Your facade dissolves
Your falseness dissipates
Because
This doesn't feel so
Casual
Anymore.

Hating yourself is such a funny way to die
As your words like daggers cut into the limp skin behind your kneecaps
Or the electricity in your back
They know exactly how to make it hurt the most
Before your demise.
Your thoughts become the finger in your throat
The "don't eat, you're always fat" mentality
The "I'm not hungry, but thanks" facade
Then in the bathroom, alone with your disarray
All the grief you give yourself is tied in the shape of a noose
Perceptive perspective ******* is clouding your vision
Until the face in the mirror becomes someone else completely.
You're wish is its command
Because you are no longer you
But isn't that what you wanted?
Be careful what you wish for
Because becoming someone else completely
Can chip away the pieces of the sculpture
Until there's nothing there
At all.

To the freshman sitting alone on the bus
Counting the scars on your wrists like train tracks
Creating a laundry list of the socially acceptable ways
To **** yourself.
Wondering if you'll jump off a bridge this year
Or bleed out in your bathtub next summer,
They'll be watching you.
You wish you could tell them they're wrong
You're different than all the depressed emo kids in the bad movies
Plastered to the television set like gum on the bottoms of desks
You're popular
But you're not pretty
Or happy.

To the freshman can I just tell you
In four years, you'll be happy.
To the freshman can I just tell you
You are pretty, you are beautiful, they all love you.
To the freshman can I just tell you
That the amount of likes you have on your profile picture
Equates to dust dissipating in the distance
To the freshman can I just tell you
The earth's curved wall will keep you grounded as you go through Hell
To the freshman can I just tell you
You don't know what *** feels like right now
But it is both amazing, like birthday balloons racing through your stomach
And overrated.
To the freshman can I just tell you
That a friend's overdose, two grandfathers' deaths, and one suicide later
You're still here.
To the freshman can I just tell you
Losing friends is the only way you know you can rely on yourself
It hurts like crazy, but the bleeding heals
And you find your own skin was the agent.
To the freshman can I just tell you
You'll go through horrific fashion trends
(Though none worse than the skeletons of middle school)
And still come out looking ****.
To the freshman can I just tell you
Graduation is not far away.
To the freshman can I just tell you
You're going to be ******* fantastic.
To the freshman can I just tell you
How ******* fantastic it is
To grow up to be me.

That weekend
      I felt
Love
For my gay best friend
As he was the first person with whom I felt completely comfortable
Sharing my attraction toward a woman.
The first time I felt like a woman
And I felt like he was a man.
We laughed until sun melted into moonlight
Why would I go to prom with a straight boy?

That weekend
       I felt
Fear
Taking a serpentine system of public transportation for the first time
Getting lost in an unfamiliar state
And my parents knew about none of it.
I grew up fast that day
Swallowed my pride at the same time
Reading colorful street signs an asking strangers for directions
I met a kind bus driver who clearly felt sorry for me
Let me ride for free
And gave me his number to make sure I was safe.

That weekend
     I felt
Odd
As my best friend's church was all Asian
People looked at me a little backwards.
A mysterious boy with dark eyes was the only reason
I didn't get lost in the shuffle.
I finally felt what it was like to be a minority
And while everyone there was accepting of me
It wasn't particularly comfortable.
It was humbling for me to see
What others go through on the daily.

That weekend
    I felt
Grown
First trip on my own
Check.
Meeting my college roommate
Check.
And that same mysterious boy?
He was my tour guide
When my friend was teaching little children
About Jesus.
I wanted him to tour other things
And I fell like a brick for him
But I failed to mention
He was not just some teenage boy from a middle school dance
That's so Disney movie.
He was a man
With broad shoulders and a college education
And a faith so deep
I could only wish to swim in it.

Straighten your back, girl
Stand up, molded into their prodding expectations
Crack neck
Crick, crick
Prison face
Prison cell:

Pick apart the pieces of your face
Like glass, ready to shatter
Tears stain it like windows
Peering into my own loneliness;

And so, the reaping begins.

Eyebrows, too thick
Hair, too thin
Scars, too many
Must cover
Color, not enough
Must fake

Brutal fat jokes are the dagger in my spine
Painting me red and black and blue:

"Fat girl's so fat she..."
"Fat girl's momma's so fat she..."
"Fat girl's whole family's so fat
I wonder where she gets it's from."

My genes were always one size too large
And everybody could tell
No matter how much I tried to make myself up
My family history was engraved in my love handles;

Even the biting words of fifth graders could serve as a poignant reminder
That no matter how much you can do to curb your appetite
You can't curb where you come from.

I always wonder why it feels
Like looking through my own eyes
At someone else's life.

Although,
That life fails to address
How much fatter her ******* mouth is
It could swallow the sea if her family whole
We all want to be a mouth
Or become absorbed by one:

And though some may say
It'll turn her up dead
She says it makes her
Dead ****.