When I grew out of my adolescence
I lost my crippling thrist to write
I stopped cutting myself in my early 20's;
just like the research articles said I would
Disorder direction, however,
was not the cause of my coping correction
I moved away from rampant tantrums
Sliding down the slope of sufferance
I used to write to externalize my internal desperation
My frustration with the life I was given*
*(Certainly not the choices I've made)
Over a decade of time has aged me
From a helpless girl, to an impassive woman
Submissive to circumstance
Now, I chain bricks to my ankles
And throw myself in the sea of apathy
I will not expend the energy to care,
but rather intentionally strive for indifference
In doing so, I sacrifice my desire to write…
Losing desperation makes me hollow
Then again, helplessness is for children.
I am a woman now.
I no longer crave the ability to describe my emotions
Asking for help is not a viable option anymore
I've tried that long enough