A blue whale's heart is so big a small child
could swim around in its veins.
I was trying to be the whale,
now I'm choking on my
******* heart.

In my family, we don't
handle emotions well.
We all use coping
mechanisms. And then
we mock each other for
it, they look down on
everyone for being so
weak as they indulge in
their addictions behind
their backs. My aunt
used to rub her skin raw,
my sister burns herself,
my parents got into as
many fights as they could
(with themselves, but
mostly with strangers.
They liked getting ******.
Making other people bleed.)
So what if I wash my hands
more than normal, or
******* a certain number
of times, or thrum my
fingers to beats of three when
I'm nervous, or try to bleed
out my problems, or bruise
myself, or starve myself.
It's just another way to live.

"Well now I can go 41 hours without sleep and I only need one meal a day, and a small snack every other day. I'm also testing the different healing times and patterns of different injuries with different levels of treatment and different places on the body. For instance, cuts bleed more on hands, but heal faster. However, burns take more time to heal on hands, especially if it's from cigarettes instead of lighters."

"So you're sleep depriving yourself, starving yourself, cutting yourself, and burning yourself?"

No.

"It's just experimenting. Everything's completely under control."

There's something incredible about being human.
I can tell you that I feel empty, and you don't
try to figure out which organs went missing.
When I tell you I can't get up in the morning,
you don't check my legs.
If I explain that I feel small and lost
and worthless and alone
and like I need to bleed
out the pain.
You know what I mean,
you understand.
What's incredible about human beings,
is that when I tell you this ****,
you can completely relate,
and walk away.

It's never taught that the vikings
discovered America long before
Columbus did. Some people never
even take the time to check the "facts."
You were the first to get to me.
It wasn't talked about, no words
were even exchanged that night.
(It was easy with you. Natural.
Inevitable. Simple. Wanted so much.)
It wasn't taught.
But you were the first,
not she.

I love how every time I ask, "How goes it?"
You always say, "It goes."
Sometimes being nice
can be addicting,
But I want to *******
so hard my slap will be an
"I love you."
I hold open doors for
everyone I see,
I'm the nicest
****** person you'll
ever meet and
I can't help but wish
you'd slice me open so
I could bind you up
and make you mine.
I love how ******* crazy
the way your lips make me
when you smoke a cigarette.
I wish you would call me a *****
so I could cause bruising.
That night I bit your lip hard
enough to draw blood
you smiled like you knew
it was the most beautiful
thing I would ever see.