I hurt myself in little ways
In the beginning.
I’d force myself to spend time
With people that I didn’t like,
People that didn’t like me.
I’d end up frustrated as the tears
Cut across my cheeks
Drawing invisible scars.
That was only the beginning.

I began to deprive myself
Of the simple pleasures.
I’d throw up after every meal.
I was dehydrated and malnourished
And it still wasn’t enough.
My mouth burned and
My stomach turned on itself.
I couldn’t sleep at night.
I didn’t want to.

Stage three of my self-hatred.
I secluded myself from my friends.
There were days that I
Wouldn’t leave my room,
Wouldn’t leave my bed.
There were days that my head ached
From the tears that burned as they fell
Onto photos of people that I used to be,
People that I wish I could be again.

After that, the inclination grew stronger.
I couldn’t decide between drawing blood
Or refusing to draw breath.
One bottle of pills, one locked door.
And it would all be over.