The terms and conditions of loving the unloveable:

Participate at your own risk. The problem with loving a dream is that it is a two player game and you are the only one with dice to roll. 

1 and 5. They will tell you they love you in black and white, with mottled colour on ivory skin.

3 and 2. They will tell you that you are beautiful and then let you go.

6 and 6. Your face met with the devil’s fist. You will give your love to a loveless being and they will say thank you with a few broken bones and muffled excuses in only an emergency. In case of an emergency please dial 4. Please dial 4, please dial 4. They will smoke cigarettes as your shaking hands reach up for their face and they will tell you to clean up the blood in the kitchen, in the kitchen, “get in the kitchen”.

You roll again.

6 and 6. Your face met with the devil’s fist. Your hands bound and blood running down your wrists. Please dial 4, please dial 4. He will change, of course he will.

Roll Again.

6 and 12. A third dice to make the game and he will hurt you again and again and again.

The unloveable.

They are not made for lovers hearts or lovers eyes or the morning kiss of a weary child. They are made to hurt and they are made to bleed through the look in their eyes and the names they call you, through the destruction of skin on skin and the idea that anything pure in life must be a ******* sin.

Waking up to a heavy chest
My body begging me to sleep again
And my anxiety begins the second I realize I'm alive
I'm trying to learn to function
With all of this negative energy inside me
I know it'll pass and
I know it'll get better
But right now it hurts
I feel unloved
Unloveable
I feel lost inside myself
A place I can't stay too long
Before I lose my mind
I can tell myself I'm worth it and
That my worth isn't defined by others
And it works for a bit
Until something else comes up and
My heart loses its energy
And I either feel like giving up
Or ready to fight everyone

While I was sleeping,
He took my trust.
While I was dreaming
He was all about another to lust.

Its just ***
So why you catching feelings
When your body was the only part of the deal and
We agreed that your mouth don't come with it
Do you want us to quit?
He would say
As he ****** her soul from between her lips
And tighten up his grip on her hips

You had a choice before
You dont wanna be "just friends" anymore
I never wanted a rrelationship
You got yourself into this situationship
So stop that whining ****
He whispered looking into the mirror that was once her eyes
Before he made her blind
Before he couldn't see through her

I llove what you give to me
I love when you pleasing me
But I don't want you loving me
The *** is just enough for me
It was fun when it was hard to get
Now you're just hard to respect
Now your eyes are clouded with regret
He moaned thrusting into her mentality
Stroking her disabilities
To love herself
To love anyone else
Cause he's all she can see
He's the only thing that's real
He's all she learned to feel
And he's just expecting her to deal

Chill out with the feelings
You're getting unappealing
Your soul is so revealing
The poet in you lost all her meaning
You're demeaning
Youre no longer a woman
You're a substance
You're just a thing
He reveals stripping her of self security
Ripping off the bandage that she placed over her heart so carefully


But you're light
You shine so bright
You're all I think about at night
You make everything so right
But you're making me weak
Love is sweet
But not for someone who makes a living in the streets
I'd rather love you in the sheets
And rip your heart out before you leave
The biggest punishment that life could ever give
Give to you I mean
The biggest punishment would be falling in love with unloveable me
He thought carefully
Quietly
Watching the tears fall from her face
Watching her steps as she leave his place
As his home and heart and soul becomes empty again
He only knows how to cause pain
Only knows how to inflict gentle suffering
Cause everyone he's ever loved left him in the rain
But she let him in
And he's letting her go again.
After all its just ***
So why did she catch feelings
When her body was the only part of the deal and
He gave her the choice before
To be "just friends" and nothing more
Although he wants so Much more .

She spent day on day
week on week
month on month
year on year
trying to figure out what was wrong with herself
what made her so unloveable.
many told her that she only cared about herself;
an entitled, selfish, unloveable shell woman.
and all of those theories just made her laugh
because the last thing she could ever do is love herself.
she hated no one more than her own self.
she just couldn't do it;
love the unloveable.

You are so unloveable
and yet I love you.
Why isn't that enough for you?

Relating the incompatible
Reconciling irreconcilable
Forgetting the indelible
Walking the liquid ground.

Turning the dark on at noon
Being an octopus in the body of a racoon
Melting the stone, stoning the melted
No utterance commented.

How does it feel to be unreal?
You may not like me when I disagree
But teach me how to like me
While I'm

Relating the incompatible
Reconciling irreconcilable
Forgetting the indelible
Walking the liquid ground.

Turning the dark on at noon
Being an octopus in the body of a racoon
Melting the stone, stoning the melted

I'll romance the unloveable
Place my shoulder under the unbearable
The pose we take in an argument
Sustainable measurement.

at age 10,
my mother pointed
At the small birth mark
On my left knee and said,
"Someone's going to love
You for that one day."

At age 16,
I told her that a boy,
One far away,
Told me I was unloveable.
"He couldn't be more wrong,"
She promised.

At age 19,
She picked up my prescription,
And cried,
"I don't want you
To get your heart broken,
Mary." She sobbed.

The empty encouragements mean nothing,
When a daughter has decided
That the need to be tragically beautiful,
Is more important than the need
To be exceptionally loved.

Too many times I was the source of realization.
I was the careless lust while the real love waited
My skin is French vanilla
You like the way it tastes on your tongue
But her skin is a field of lavender and lilac
All of your butterflies fly toward her
the second her flesh molds over your lips

You keep telling me I have you
But I know where your eyes go
when she walks passed you

Mirrors are all traitors
As in them I can see
Just what a monster I am;
That I will always be.
I have lumps and and spots
That make me unloveable.
And everything I eat is
Another bite of trouble.

Why can’t I ever look
Like the models in the book?
Why is it that I
Can’t look myself in the eye?
No one will look longingly
At the gorgon I turned out to be.

I don’t watch cartoons
Because what I see is me
What did I do to deserve
To become so **** ugly?
Did I cross the path of a cat
That was an omen meant to warn
And I ignored it so now
I inherited this awful form?

Why can’t I be the kind
With a beautifully formed behind?
I wish it was my history
To stimulate evil jealousy.

I want to look like a dream,
But instead I must surrender
A fragile wish, as it seems
An unfilled hope altogether.
Some friends are sweet to me
They say I look fine to them,
But I know what I can see
And I deserve no diadem.

Anxiety is like the movie "Honey, I Shrunk The Kids",
except it's the sequel "Honey, We Shrunk Ourselves",
because you have no one else to blame for how big and scary the world seems around you.
To anyone else, a stair is just a stair,
but this stair in life is towering over me and I have no clue how to overcome.
This stair might be getting out of bed,
being around other people,
or shopping at a store alone.

Fairly easy tasks,
but I feel I have to ******* my oxygen tank and climb Mt. Everest.

Anxiety is like when you are sick,
and the bathroom is a mere 10 steps away,
but like in the cartoons,
the bathroom stretches to miles away before my eyes.
10 steps is now 10,000,
in those 10,000 steps to school, or work, so many things could go wrong.

Anxiety is knowing you're thinking irrationally.
Thinking against yourself in your head,
wanting to strangle whatever force is driving you mad.
Like finding an on-off switch,
but no matter how many times you flip it, nothing happens.

Anxiety is laying in bed,
plauged with possibilities of problems,
not moving a muscle,
paralyzed by the endless possible outcomes of failure.
I feel as if I'm in a big gray cloud.
I can see through it, but yet it is so dense I am captive by my own paranoia.

Anxiety is being a walking imperfection.
Where one zit on your forehead acts as a big red, flashing, arrow floating above your head saying IMPERFECT
DISGUSTING
UNLOVEABLE

Anxiety is wanting to love yourself
so so very bad
and fighting every day against a bug infesting your beautiful brain
with negative self talk.

Anxiety is trying to fall asleep at night,
and with every breath,
my body gets smaller and smaller,
my thoughts have weight like a lead balloon,
filling with every breath,
my head is heavy and I feel my chest caving in.

Anxiety is the anti-Cupid who stabs an arrow between anyone I've ever loved.
She is the imaginary mistress I can't help but suspect,
no matter how many times he says he loves me.
What if one day he doesn't?
What if one day everything I hate about myself he hates too?
Anxiety is the mistress he never knows is there,
and yet I push her towards him.

With Anxiety there are options.
There is one switch that does work.
It is a big red button labeled MEDICATION
this button will destroy every anxious though I may have
but often in wars the innocent suffer.

If this button is pressed, I lose everything.
Anger, sadness, paranoia,

I lose happiness.
I lose the feeling of love,
excitement,
hopefulness.

My heart and brain become an empty forgotten shoe box that I don't need anymore.

My body smiles when my brain believes it should,
and fills the air with laughter that isn't mine.

Someone tells a joke and my stomach never hurts from laughing.

I don't have crushes on cute boys.

My deep brown eyes look as if they are made of glass... Emotionless.

Kisses feel like flicks.
Hugs feel like uncomfortable, uncessary squeezes.

I find myself going through the motions, like an extra on a TV set.
Saying words that have no meaning.
Moving my mouth but nothing is truly coming out.

I stop petting my cat.

It is inconvenient when my dog greets me at the door and licks me.

My mother tells me she loves me and I despise it.. I don't know why.

I forget what it is like to feel.

I am a robot in a human's body.

If you tell me to take medication,
I am letting my illness win,
with a white flag in hand.

I refuse to throw away every piece of me for "peace."

"Maybe I'm unloveable. Is that it? Am I unloveable, Leigh?"

silly boy.
silly, beautiful boy.
you could never be unloveable.
I love you.
I love you so much.
I'd scream it from the peak of the highest mountain if I could reach it.
But you don't know that.

"It isn't you, bud. It's just that girls don't see how great you are."

A coward's answer, that.
Whoever thought that the sometimes brutally honest girl would be afraid to say
"I love you"?
I
love
*you