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isla Feb 2020
can’t tell if i’m miserable or not.
can’t tell how i’m feeling ever really.
the only feeling i’ve been able to recognize is some sort of happiness when i’m with him.
i say ’some sort of’ because i know i always feel better with him;
i smile, laugh, and i cry with him.
i’m comfortable.
i’m safe.
but at times i sit on his basement couch and i want to feel that ‘better’ feeling
so i smile and i laugh, pleading inside myself to feel that again.
i need that again.
i want that again.
but there’s a filter.
a shade of gray, cradling my mind.
my being.
a coffee filter holding a clump of dark roast thoughts allowing water to pass through
with the cost of a stain in the mug below.
my tongue tastes of the things i ache to say, to finally release and be done with.
it never leaves.
the words stay in my throat, the taste fades to a scattered past.
i sit on that basement couch and swallow.
i deal with that ‘some sort of’ happiness.
i wait.
i wait until what? until when?
what am i even waiting for anymore?
isla Feb 2020
it hurts
the cliche “eternal ache” in my bones
it spreads
a strange hollowness
a dull pain
a small price to pay for the continuance of this disease i once asked for
it never occurred to me that i could reach this stage
lightheadedness
low heart rate
bruises upon bruises upon bruises
i thought there was no way to concentrate any less than i already did until this
it seems as if i’ve forgotten whole years of my life
ask me about a year and i’ll remember that’s when i tried to **** myself
but wait was that really 2016?  
or was it 2018?
it might’ve been both
i remember in 2019 i had the most traumatic argument of my life
i moved a lot
2018 i was severely depressed
did 2017 even happen?
essentially, i don’t know
i never know
i didn’t know i would lose my train of thought a few words into speaking
that when i ramble i wouldn’t be aware of what i was saying
who knew someone’s chest could clench so much when reading a nutrition label?
that a few grams of sugar was enough to make me put down my favorite food
my feet, on and off the scale, every morning at 5
my hands, measuring my wrists and how far up my arm i can wrap my fingers
my fat, fat fingers
my schedule
unintentionally planned
daily morning bagel, half peanut butter for protein, half cream cheese for enjoyment
no lunch
never lunch
no snacks
a fourth of what’s served for dinner at his house
the max is half
talk, put the fork down, drink water
constant thoughts
constant rules
constant fear
i didn’t know this would be a consequence
i didn’t think this would happen to me
no one does
the ache continues to spread
until i am enveloped
and i know
i can no longer escape
sumthin i wrote in class instead of listening because the hunger pains were worse than normal. a chaotic neutral poem
isla Feb 2020
gently used! wrote the sign taped to my back

before this
i used to be the full package
performed everything as advertised
loved wholly
moved as desired
you'd pull my string and i'd be alive
tugged over & over
each time a new performance

tugging soon became yanking
you programmed new acts into me
my timidity was your entertainment
you mistook my silence as acceptance
i thought submissiveness was the answer

i became gently used

just another hand-me-down
yet i didn't wait to be found
i lost count of how many people like you yanked my string
your programmed acts remained
my silence stayed solely in my brain

use me! screams the sign stapled to my back
the last one like you added to the bottom:
"will do anything 4 love"
isla Feb 2020
of the day i'll remain okay even when i am alone
isla Feb 2020
i am a mistake
i am a mistake and now, unwillingly, my thumbprint, my identity, my existence, is smeared on the world
corrupting it
disrupting it
i know i wasn’t meant to be
i know i’ve disturbed all that was and all that will be with every breath i take
i know
i'm sorry
november 2018 me was really going through it huh
isla Feb 2020
you don't understand
and that's okay
i’d rather you didn't
i can't tell you yet
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