I sat down at a computer and tried to use words to paint to the feeling in my chest, or the lack of feeling in my chest, the sharp stabbing in my chest I felt every time our eyes met, every time for 365 days, the feeling in my chest that started to manifest itself in the shape of 14 hour naps and 750 mililiter bottles of alcohol. I could not formulate sentences much less images of what I could have been but instead had to face the reality of what I had become, it was not a who, but a what and that what did not know where she was going or why she let herself turn into something so empty and why she was not fighting for substance inside her. I was too weak to fight back. How do you teach yourself how to love your own self, while you fight like hell with her every single day? I could not formulate sentences nevermind find the strength to admit I was empty to someone who could fill me and I spent a year trying to teach myself that humans could not fill the void, I kept looking for humans to fill the void. I kept looking and never found one single human to make me feel important. I have this problem where I think that if I am not important to the entire world that I am not important at all, isn't it important enough to be someone to those you love? I could not fill myself up with the cradling words of my mother, oh how my mother would have collapsed if she knew that the daughter she raised was out killing herself slowly every day and could not find the energy to care or cry or ask for help, I asked for help when it was too late and the cycle had already swallowed me whole. I found solace in condensing months of suffering into tiny pink pills that I could fit in my mouth and chase with ***. I used to drink until I ended up on bathroom floors but the night my friends all found their way into their lovers' beds after doing the same and I fell asleep on tile was the same day I told myself I was ready to fall in love again. It was the falling that I had missed, but not the love. I wanted the chase because it made the cavity in my chest feel more shallow even if it was for a day even if it was never going to go away, at least it felt that way. But the truth is, it never did. I slept with men who never listened when I talked and when I talked they said it was too much. I stopped trying to talk and eventually could not think and the smart girl who was pretty too became the loud girl no one wanted to spend the night with because she did not know how much was too much and I hated that girl.
