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  Dec 2015 Evangeline Rose
Jane Bell
"What a ****
You're a waste of space
Selfish brat
No one will ever like you
Ugly ******"

Words escalated after I said
"I'm a bit cold"
in 30 degree weather
Wearing a thin long sleeve..
Words from my own mother

I would like for her to repeat those phrases after she's
seen me throwing up every "snack" I've eaten in 3 days

Have her watch me cry and shake in the bathtub while slitting my wrists because a blade hurts way less than her words

Have her watch me spend hours looking at thinspo and
"how to be perfect" websites for self expectance because she's torn me down too far

I want her to watch me talk to the people at school because she sees me as the hammer I smash my ribs against with; but truly, I am gentle

I am petrified to raise my hand in class because I am so scared to mess myself up... Mommy said it was wrong to mistake.
I will cry in a bathroom stall for hours if a girl DARE tell me she thinks she doesn't look good enough for the world today because that's how I feel with reminders every hour
But,
Maybe I am selfish
Selfish to keep myself away from human engagements for so long
But mommy says it's for the better
Better if I stay away

The words I've learned to trust so much
It's the words that stab me over and over
Those words are the reason I cannot accept a compliment or state my thoughts aloud

Feeling far worse than suicide.
Self harming
Burning
Carving
Words hurt more
Her words hurt most

And now mommy might know
Why there is a tear stained note waiting for her in her bedroom tonight
And she might feel just a bit of pain
As I did everyday

Goodbye mom, I thought I loved you.
All I said was "I'm a bit cold." And she went on for 30 minutes in a restaurant telling me how useless I am. I'm suicidal enough, funny to know she would not care.
She showed him all her imperfections,
and he greeted them all with a kiss.
He knew all about her flaws,
but still loved her as if they didn't exist.
  Dec 2015 Evangeline Rose
MonkeyZazu
she said
he taught me to write in different dimensions
free myself into expression

in the writing it was clear
her words painted not pictures
but emotions.

her brush
rhythmical experience
her canvas
their soul
I care far less
About what people think of me
And far more
About what I think of myself.
  Dec 2015 Evangeline Rose
s
it wasn't
cherry that
tastes sweet
on my lips but
y o u r s
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