The stretch marks on my thighs prove that I am a descendant of the mermaids and the gods.

They shine and appear light on my skin like how the sunlight dances on the top of the water.

They are signs that my body has endured and will continue to survive as the world moves on.

They weave across my skin like the beginning of a beautiful tapestry that will only become complete in time.

Learning to love myself again is hard, but my naked body is slowly becoming mine again.

The stretch marks are art on my skin, my own natural tattoos.

Let them show.

The world is silent but my thoughts are so loud.

My body aches from being forced to be still.

My hair is greasy.

From day to day I fluctuate in everything.

Forcing myself to present an image to others so I can be left in solitude.

I long to run, to be wild, to escape. To push myself until I can’t breathe and my body heaves and I feel more accomplished in a few moments than I have in months.

I want to go to the beach. Lay in the sand, let the waves crash on the shore and soothe my mind and soul.

I want my creativity to come back.

I want to love.

Two weeks [redacted] you.


I think I said that out of anger-

but I don’t think you could blame me-

or maybe you do-

because I know now how it feels-

to have spent two weeks [redacted] you.


I can’t even say the words because

I don’t want anyone to judge me-

rather that’s the last thing I need-

as while I was [redacted] you I wasn’t

[redacted] myself.

I was mean.

I was harsh.

If that’s what [redacted] you was-

then well, maybe I’m better off.


I did [redacted] you. I think I have for a while-

and people say that to [redacted] someone else you have to [redacted]

yourself but that’s not true because I hated myself when I [redacted]

you.


I thought everything I did was wrong-

I said this-

I did that-

did you think I meant that-

and even if you understood what you think I said-

could you tell that I [redacted] the idea of being with you like that?


Why can’t I [redacted] the idea of [redacted] myself the way that I so

desperately wanted to [redacted] you

This is all me in my head-
the shaking hands and the
emptiness that I feel
but is it just that I don't feel enough
or so much
that I'm shutting down-
sleeping away my days
going into nights where I stare up
at the sky and wonder why
my life is the way that it is.

I can't tell why I'm crying- because
I feel nothing
empty
hollow
empty
nothing
complete loss of anything-
but I know that things will not alway be this way because
I remember times when I did feel-
so hard
so fast
so intense
that this all must just be my body
trying to react to something
that it does not know what it is reacting to

What is going on
why am I so numb?
This is all in my head-
this is on me-
it will be okay-
the feeling will come back-
but for now I'll sit.