when i met my first boyfriend i was a gaping wound
my personality was the hole my father spent years drilling into my chest
he was dating two other girls at the time
we all knew we were all okay with it
i didn't like it but i kept at it anyway because i needed someone
anyone
to tell me things about myself i could shove in the cavernous chamber of my empty heart to try and stop the bleeding
that isn't to say i didn't love him
i loved him even when he fell asleep without saying good night
even if i hated that
i loved him when i shouldn't have
i stayed with him when he cheated on me because i was so afraid no one else would ever give me a second glance
and because i thought i loved him i did things i wish i could take back, that leave me feeling alone and scared and violated

when i met my second boyfriend i had a crush on somebody else
and i was a scared little girl, far away from home and missing people i could never see again
my personality was a time bomb, ticking ticking ticking it's way to mania or depression or anxiety which is a lot like a little bit of both
the wound in my chest had closed all wrong and the skin was uneven and grey
i held both my hands over the ****
until he pried them away gently
keeping me distracted with conversation about books and off handed compliments

when i met my second boyfriend i was scared because i could never figure out exactly what he wanted
or what i was doing with someone so clearly out of my league
i loved him before i noticed that i loved him
and it hit me like a ton of bricks the first time i saw him
when i opened the door and the first thing he did was open his arms
and i was terrified because i am gunshy in every sense of the word
i don't like loud sudden noises and i don't like loud sudden emotions
but he was gentle even as he touched all the rough edges of me

when i told him i loved him for the first time i said in the typographical equivalent of a whisper
knowing he wouldn't say it back
but he did
when i called him my boyfriend for the first time i'd already been in love with him for months
when he tells me i am beautiful i have trouble believing him
but i paper my body in his words like wallpaper bandaids hoping they will cover up the scars that just won't heal
when i say his name it rolls across my tongue like rock candy; sweet and rough and permanent
when he tells me he loves me, even if he says it ten times a day, it is as new and wonderful as surprising as the first time
when we fight, after we make up, he says i'm sorry, even when it wasn't his fault
and when he looks at me, it's a little easier to keep my hands away from the scar across my chest

today my therapist told me that i'm depressed
and i wasn't surprised and i felt almost
vindicated
like when i dislocated my knee and spent months yelling at doctors
no no can't you see
something's wrong i can't walk right
it hurts to stand
it hurts to move
and then when my physical therapist finally figured out what was wrong
yeah it ****** to be told my legs were ****** up
but finally somebody SAW
somebody GOT IT

after i had surgery to fix my knee, it got worse for awhile
but now it just comes in waves
my bad days are a lot like my bad knee
some days i only remember there was ever a problem if i see the six inch scar on my right shin
but some days the pain makes it so i cant walk down the stairs of my apartment building
some days i don't think a single bad thought, and i can almost forget everything that happened
but some days my anxiety is so bad and i'm so depressed i can barely breathe

my knee surgery was three years ago and i still can't run a mile or walk down stairs without feeling  pain
i try to keep that in mind when i remember how long it's been since i finally got away from my father but it's hard
it's hard because everyone can see the scars on my leg and say
oh what happened? are you okay?
no one can see inside my brain or see the surface of my heart and say
oh god, what happened to you?

so when my therapist told me i was depressed
would it be crazy if i said i felt a little relieved?

it's hard to believe
that the world could keep spinning without you in it
but it's spun completely on it's axis
not once
but twice
and i must be off balance
because 730 days
feels an awful lot like yesterday

I was talking to my therapist
About how much the two sides of my brain hate each other
About how scared and alone one side is
And how bitter the other one is that she had to be the one to do the growing up
And she told me that every time I hate myself
Every time I think how stupid I am for crying over dropping my hairbrush on the floor
Or over the death of a loved one
How ridiculous it is that I miss my boyfriend after talking to him ten minutes before
Any time I think anything negative about myself
It's like giving my father a high five
It's like telling him he did a great job when he set out to **** my head up so badly
That even years later I can't even think his name without feeling my entire being freeze up in terror
My father is like a snake and his words
His words are like venom that creeps through my veins paralyzing everything I might like about myself
For every time I think '**** I look good today'
There are a thousand other days where I heard his voice in the back of my head
Shouting all the things that have ever been wrong with me

But I'm done high fiving my father for making me hate myself
I'm replacing the shouts he left reverberating in my brain like an echo chamber
With the things my boyfriend whispers to me in the morning when we wake up
Because he thinks I'm beautiful before I brush my teeth, or do my hair, or drink my coffee
And I will replace them with the way he says my name when we have ***
Like I am a gift unto this world
Instead of a misbehaviour

When I walk down the street and a man calls me 'Sweet ****'
With his wedding ring clad hand resting on the rolled down window of his SUV
I am supposed to like it
Fat girls should be grateful someone wants them, after all
Women should be grateful for the attention of strangers
Women are taught to be sponges
Domestic and silent and absorbing the words of men around them
If a woman talks 30 percent of the time
A man will feel like she is dominating the coversation
A man calling a woman 'baby' on a street corner is a compliment
But a teenage girl saying a celebrity has nice eyes is fetishizing
Men are taught that they are the default mode
While women are taught to make room
Men sit with their legs spread and elbows out on subway trains
Women tuck their ankles together and rest their hands in their laps
The great crime of patriarchy though
Isn't the way it affects how men feel about women
But how women feel about women
Like every great dystopian novel on the planet
We are taught to hate ourselves and hate each other
Because that will keep us distracted from the real problem
The richest woman in the world  makes one sixth what the richest man makes
Girls are still afraid to speak up in classrooms from first grade to PHDs
No one listens when we start talking
So we start screaming
And everyone just tells up to shut up
And stop being so **** sensitive

You read a book once

About a girl who woke up to rose tattoos

Blooming across her hips and thighs

Like real flowers

But when you look down at your own hips

The only things blooming there are fat dimples

And the bruises you gave yourself

Like a replacement for the wounds he never gave you

But you almost wish he did

You are splinter in my heart that won’t come out

Nagging nagging nagging

Especially on night like tonight

When it is hot and still and half dark

Like the summers we spent wasting time in the square

And everything smelled like rosemary bushes and lemonade

And the street lights made you look electric

Like the day you shocked me

And left me burning in your wake