i want to cut off my hair.
if you knew me better, you'd know this is
something i would never truly want.

i want to tell her to stop living with
her head perched over the toilet
and the shower running-
she doesn't want me to hear her insides coming out.

i want to create murals
in between the creases of my fingers
with the absence of paranoia,
with the absence of fear that mom will cry
or search me every time i'm home.

i want to run away.

i want to tell my dearest friends
that i wish i could drop twenty
disgusting, sweaty, hideous pounds
from my already average figure-
i can't even tell them about what happened
with him.

i want to hug my dad.
i want to hug my dad without him worrying
that his little pumpkin girl has issues,
or that he didn't try hard enough,
or that he wasn't there to stop me from
letting myself become this.

i want to be less of a disappointment
to those i care about.

i want to cut off my hair.