I look down at my stomach.

I look down at every slice,every cut.

I look down at every cut screaming the words my voice can't carry.

I look at my stomach holding the pain my heart could not.

I don't like doing this to myself.

I don't want to do this to my body.

But yet I do.

The pain relieves my heart and my brain.

The pain whispering to me gently that it's all okay now.

I know it's not, I know it doesn't fix anything or change it.

But it always makes me feel okay.

when we were together i asked you if there's anything you would die for.
you said no.
you asked me if there's anything i would die for.
i said being free.
i don't think you understood that,
but that tells me how different we are.