today i woke up and played animal crossing. i ate ice cream and i binged. i microwaved salt and water, it didn't do anything and i felt stupid calling it a binge. small binges count, shallow cuts count too. it's about how you feel while stuffing your face with three cereal bars at the speed of light or storing sharp objects as a panic button.

I spent the day self-loathing and wishing I had a prettier disorder. one that doesn’t get you called a ***** when you just need someone to tell you what is real and what is not, one that doesn't make crawling out of your bed an impossible challenge. I remember how forgiving people were when everyone suspected I had adhd. I would hurt myself whenever i couldn't focus and they thought that was worth a hug, mania is not even worth a kind word. I remember my ex handing me ritalin, I remember not taking it because I was paranoid about being poisoned. there was “you can do it” written on the box with a smiley face. he had the same grin as he f!cked me and spat on me minutes away. I scratched his back as bad as I could so the other girl would notice and ask him if he was treating me right. he thought it was arousing. it was a cry for help.

now I sit on the edge of the bed I spent the past few days in. it got me missing my old bedroom, the cocoon i lived inside for eight years. i sit here alone and unlovable by the standards of controlling neurotypicals, i still can't focus for the life of me and I've never felt so close yet so far from my dreams.
if i'll have to take a step back from my ambitions once again, then so be it.
my only hope is that death feels like going grocery shopping and exiting the store knowing that you checked all of the boxes of your list, I hope my grandma felt safe as she passed.

if heaven is real I hope my hym3n grows back to convince myself I was never in danger. I hope I can be something other than life's mixed, blonde, green-eyed f!ck doll.

i don’t know if it’s the noise
or the sweat
or the feeling of hands pressing on my neck
that wakes me up

but there i was, strapped to a hospital bed
pushed into the forbidden oblivion
of all the kind men who punched me in the face
when all i asked for was forgiveness
for not acting as if it was arousing

you’re giving me a big grin
as you lay your scrubs on the floor
and tell me how much i wanted it
but am i really enjoying it
if i wake up looking for your blood under my nails?

as you unzip my jeans
i scream for my mother,
since she’s as good at killing men
as I am at reaching out to murderers

you'll ask yourself why I can't sleep
but please, don't make me sleep ever again
and i'll never look you in the eyes once more
you'll tell yourself I'm just autistic
but the truth is to this day
I'm still afraid of the wrong men