The rain, and its concentration
on the back of your neck
the tiny hairs
on your tiny neck
Fixation has always favored the anxious

I'm not Fixated I'm furious
that life wasn't what they said it would be
that my strawberries are moldy
and half the world can't eat them anyways
that you never wear the colors
that made me like you in the first place
that now even I can't remember how you taste

i hate to be graphic and upsetting, but i need to write this. please refrain from reading.

first thing on my mind is
harm
what i feel like i deserve is
pain
it is not even a coping mechanism to me anymore
it has become routine
i fixate on it
i need to do it
i have to or else
i cannot bear to be myself
in my cold skin
i can't even look in the mirror
i'm a ******* monster
the slow sensation on my arm
is relieving and reassuring
that i am still deserving of it

i remember when i was 13
and i grabbed my weapon
and ran to my room
shut the door
turned out the light
sat down on the floor
and wept
if only i had known
what i was getting myself into
fast forward 5 years
and i am still there
on the floor

the reaction from my mother when i confessed
shocked me and took me by surprise
how could you be mad at me
i thought to myself
but now i realize why
i was her masterpiece
never to inflict harm on myself
and there i was
ruining what was hers
my skin

it's always there
most times a burden
other times a sign of resilience
a reminder of my monster
my corrupt side
of low self-esteem and self-worth
that i seem to never gain back
i won't ever hide it
i won't ever get rid of it
because i can't

i am not proud
most people say i'm a pathetic fool
crying for attention
desperate for others to see
but no one ever notices
and it lets me know
that it will always be
my little secret
a habit that was once by choice
but now by force

i wonder if i will ever grow out of it
like they said i would
years ago
i have accepted the fact that
i love it
and will never let it go