12:22
Last night, I was at a party where
Over-stimulation
And too much conversation
Left me shaking in a friend’s bedroom,
Because there’s nothing worse
Than making small talk
When you haven’t spoken aloud in 3 days.

15:39
I told you that I love you,
But I’m not sure that you realise
That my love is so much more than
The emotion inside;
It’s an appreciation of your perfection
So god-like it is tantamount
To my survival.

19:24
It’s been 48 hours since I last had a meal.
And I’m still not hungry because
My stomach is stuffed with the most desperate thoughts,
And the emptiness is so filling
I think I may throw up.

21:08
I could run away.
The things holding me down are part of the problem,
But I think I might like my sickness.

23:55
Earlier,
I caught sight of my face in the mirror,
My skin looked paper thin.
I am more fragile than I have ever been,
And I fear I might break myself
If you don’t shatter me first.

01:04
If I lay very still,
You might think that I’m asleep.

04:52
I don’t know if you know,
but I’m happiest when
I’m sat up all night,
crying tears that have been
stuck for weeks,
like the rush of blood
when pressure is released.

I have been uncomfortable in my own skin for
14 years
3 months
and 2 days.

It was my 7th birthday and
Upon opening my presents,
All bright eyes and
Childish excitement,
I found a bra.
It was a small thing.
Frilly.
Pink polka dots and
White lace and
I,
Ever polite,
Smiled through my tears.

Last month my mother stood as statue while
I cried in the bathroom for over an hour
Because my chest was infected
And the doctor would have to
Remove my only armour to
Expose my back to cold steel
And my mother, (because she's the type of person
Who irons her clothes before she packs them
To travel across the globe),
Could not bear to see me wear a bra that was not
'Pretty'.
So, purple satin, push up, plunge neckline
Restraints were strapped to me,
And I could not find a jumper baggy enough.

Yesterday, you said that my outfit makes me look
like a 15 year old boy.
I said that's why I like it.
You might not appreciate that
Some days I want to step outside myself,
But don't tell me I'm weird for idolising bodies
That are more pleasing than my own.

You do that,
Too.

The first time I heard the word
Lesbian
I was 8 years old and
They came from lips I'd just kissed.

I thought it was swearing,
That if her mother
Had heard her say it
she would be grounded for a week.

When it sits in my mouth,
It still feels heavy,
And my stomach churns the way it did
When I skipped class.

I'm not the only one who,
Growing up,
Thought sexuality was insulting,
And struggled to find myself there.

But I still feel lost,
And sometimes I'm convinced that
The words I think are the worst
Are the ones which fit best.

It has been almost 7 years since
We first spoke,
And your *** and coke has loosened your tongue.
"It is not your fault that I'm
in love with you,"
you said,
"I'm just an idiot, for letting it go
so far."
Like when, at 3am, you phoned from across the ocean,
Because you felt that something was wrong,
And the pills stacked up on my desk stayed there,
Useless.

I'm sure that that was careless of you, too.

If I had known I would have curbed it,
Because I know that
unrequited love feels like a
punch to the gut,
And you've saved me enough times that
I owe you in return.
But, as confessions pour from your alcoholic lips,
I freeze.

I'm not sure what comfort I can be, when
The word 'friendzone' has
left your mouth so often
That I sometimes think
you're the
enemy.
Now we are here,
And I keep expecting your finger
To send the blame my way.

Please don't be that guy



(I wouldn't be alive without you.)

Sometimes,
If you're well-practiced,
You can make a pocket to hide in;
A bubble of zero gravity,
And that place means
Feeling free.

But, occasionally,
If you're so blessed,
You find people to share that space with;
They understand its sanctity,
And meeting them, is
Being home.