to exist
when i want nothing but love of my own
for myself
some of it,
dedicated entirely to my being,
my skin, by all means

and i feel like this skin isn't mine
like a second layer
some days i dream of tearing it apart
and perhaps finding what i look like
within

is it any different from the other deformations?
do i have it smooth, baby-like, good enough, to be accepted?

had it been all natural,
nature-given, that way i'd have perhaps accepted
alas, knowing it's a play of the world onto me
and in my body,
my blood messing up everything it's meant to do for me
all because of the ones that were supposed to create antibodies

there's this guttural scream that ensnares me whole

where do i go
when i see them fight the demons outside and around
i can't even win the battles that i carry within me, all time round

and i'm on a war with myself
there's rage, there's ache, there's the pain
of when will i accept
i shall forever bargain

why do i even begin to heal if i have to go down the same place
down the same low
the lows hit lower
i see new symptoms, new symphonies of how it could and would
and it does—it gets worse again
and it's a cycle

healing, accept the white little ***** that carry the science of potential magic
put all my hopes, have them disintegrate
go back again
start at the beginning, new dose around—i'm healing

and then i come crashing down again

and it's the nights
and the mornings
that are the worst

both the times, when i should be at my best
i'm battling, wanting to hide and disappear
and wear a snake-like skin on myself

i hate me
and this hatred lives deep within like a monster that birthed itself
out of the normal, the ordinary that i have lacked

there are days where i pull at my roots
watch them fade
watch them fall
i cry and lose hope with every strand that couldn't stand tall
and it's like cemented on me

had it been scales on a snake, i'd have called it flashy
it's disgust that's piled in my eyes, against my being
i see the look on my face
the dead, the dead stares back every time i try to play pretend
and it whispers
it whispers, smirking in my ear

this is what you get

be normal?
oh i would do anything—exchange half my lifeline
if i could live through a healthy half of life
or whatever remains
i've tired myself out of it all anyway

there's bumps
and there's fractures
i feel like it's my own skin that peels
every time i grasp it

and it's visceral
too graphical, no gore however
makes me wonder
how it'd be—moments of softness
where i cherish just me
where who i am isn't my enemy
even just for a breath
i wish to write about that breath

but oh—
imagining is hard when there's nothing left for you to do
the ones living in delusions have thought and wondered if it could all come true
my case is different
so far, years upon years i've been hoping
but the last of this strength, the last drop in the vessel that was given
it might run out as soon as i stop breathing and moping

and i am perhaps the most devastating liar of all
you shall never see me burning myself to the ground
for i'll stand tall through it all
and in front of your lies, i'll deceive and speak my practiced lines
i'm alright, it is what it is—i'll be fine

i won't be. i am not. i'm tired. give me some hope.

i might be a ***** for feelings
and i fear—i fear so loudly in a silence
call me a *******—love is what i want
hatred is all that i got

i have been hiding
and i've been running
and i sat in this adventure ride
never got back out of it

i'm scared
and i don't think i'll get out of this shell ever
so i imagine myself hiding
covered in multiple shells and armors
walls surrounding me, boundaries in the form of
words and my own scars—the ones that aren't even on the surface
protecting me, giving the silent comfort
that they are here, to carry me on, forward

and i've lied so much
i started believing my own lies
forgetting what was the truth
'cause it hurt so much

what do you do when you go down?
where do you go when you are drowning?

quiet is peaceful
quiet is welcoming
like i don't have to perform to exist in here, no
especially the dark
no one can see me
i can't see me
and that's just easy

to exist that way
been felt for, not seen on the surface
not just looked at, but heard
for your voice to find out of your own existence

there's voices in my head
that'll scare you more

what even is there to love
or like?
i see nothing
and on the surface
it's all to despise

show me if there's something
don't tell me it's the heart that's worth it

when you starve yourself for long enough
the void of hunger becomes like it's a normal
the new normal

starving myself of everything
to get used to it the best way
the void, though
continues to grow

i get these random bouts of feeling
such immense loneliness
makes me want to pull in the closest person
hug them tight
take all the warmth
squeeze out my life

i'm layers upon layers
of words and of stories
of people i've met, their memory
and of all who've given up before me
girl in pieces, i shall call myself
would anyone even want me?

I think the only reason I wanna change,
​is cause' I don't like me,
in any way, shape, or form.

I want to bury this tragic excuse of a human,
and create something new,
as if this was never there.
To start all over again.

No matter how many compliments I get,
or how you think of me,
I hate every inch of it.
This disgusting body,
with me slowly balding,
gaining weight,
and the joyful expression leaving my face.

You won't understand,
the feeling of pure resentment,
of filthiness,
just by looking at myself.

I hate this feeling.
It taunts my brain,
telling me I should better,
more perfect.

But, I know that'll never happen,
if i'm forever in,
this never-ending cycle of self-loathing.
And, in the end,
that's what's making it last so long.

My little sister called me tonight.
Her voice cracked before she even said hello.
She saw the heart I typed,
and thought I was saying goodbye.

She shouldn’t have to live like this—
bracing herself
every time I answer too slowly,
learning to read my silences
like warning signs.

She’s just a kid.
My baby.
The one I used to tuck in
and promise monsters weren’t real.

But now I am the monster.
Not to her.
Never to her.
But to myself.

I am the nightmare she can’t wake up from.
The danger she can’t punch away.
The reason she checks her phone
like it’s a lifeline
and a bomb
at the same time.

And I hate it.
I hate that she’s learning
to live on edge
because of me.
Because I might break
and take her with me.

So maybe—
maybe the kindest thing I could do
is just end it.

Once.

Not again and again
in panicked calls and whispered fears
and “I love you”s that sound too final.
Not in sirens or hospital beds
or birthdays where I couldn’t come.

Just once.
One clean tear through the timeline.
One scream.
One silence.
And then nothing.

She’d cry,
yes.
But she’d stop being afraid.

She wouldn’t have to wonder anymore.
Wouldn’t have to scan my messages
for signs of collapse.
Wouldn’t have to carry
this slow, rotting dread
that her sister might be dying
in a place she can’t reach.

Maybe grief
would be easier than fear.

Maybe heartbreak
would feel like freedom
after years of holding her breath.

I think about that a lot.

How maybe
the kindest thing I could ever do for her
is disappear.

The sadness falls in sheets of rain—
I long for an umbrella of love.
You are the Atlantic, lost in tides,
I am the Pacific, distant above.

Two waters that will never meet,
divided by fate, by silent war.
Loneliness hums in flickering streetlights,
shadows stretch, but mine is no more.

The mirror mocks with a cruel smile,
a stranger wears my skin and eyes.
If self-love is an illusion,
why can’t I stop despising mine?

My world, once golden, now Atlantis,
drowning beneath a memory.
The pillars that held my past and pain,
once strong with love, now start to break.

And as the cracks run deep and wide,
they show the truth I failed to see—
the ones I cherished, swore were mine,
were only ghosts disguised as peace.

El Dorado gleamed on the horizon,
but it’s farther than the stars abide.
Betrayal shattered like porcelain glass,
a wound too deep for love to hide.

Yet even ruin learns to harden—
one day, I will return the favor in steel.

Lord,
you tell me to serve you,
but I haven't heard even a whisper
about this path and purpose
you intend me to pursue.

God said
“love your enemies”
but he didn't tell us
what to do when it hurts,
when a piece of your heart it attached to every kind word and gesture
that then gets picked apart
and shredded into shards that shoot
right back at me.

Our Father affirms
how we must forgive our trespassers,
but he didn't tell us how to repair the damage,
how to stop being taken advantage of,
or how to stand up for ourselves.
He didn't tell us how to end the the cycles,
just how to continue them
by turning over your other cheek
and not withhold even your tunic.

Jesus preached
about how we should love our neighbors as ourselves,
but he didn't say what to do when you’re full of self-hate
or when nobody cares that you care about them
because they're too busy trying to get someone else's approval.

He also said
"Don't let your hearts be troubled”
but he didn't say what to do
when they don't listen to you,
when there's so much at stake,
when your world caves in,
when you're cast aside like dust
but the world still wants to much,
or when you're just not happy and you don't know why everything is so hard,

or when you're wide awake at night,
knowing
the ones you care about the most
could be on the verge of breaking
their skin.

My chest is heavy,
and my throat tightens,
Breathing ragged,
head light.

I punch you until my knuckles bruise,
I scream until my throat bleeds.

I shout ‘WHY’
as if you owe me an answer.
I beg for a reason behind this hurt.
‘I hate you,’
three powerful words,
but they barely scratch the surface
of what I feel for you.

I look up.
You’re just a person,
like me.
You have scars,
flaws that don’t fade.
Just like me.

Then I catch the softness of your eyes,
vulnerable, full of emotions I don’t understand.
I feel sorry for you,
in some twisted way.

I blink and realize—
I’m in front of a mirror.
Because the only person I can never escape from
is me.

rip the star from my mind
hold the sun to my eyes
grip a handful of time
feed me delicate lies

put the moon in my throat
pull the tide til i choke
with the night in your fist
it was cold when we kissed
like the surface of ponds
undisturbed in your palms

tuck me into the sky
leave my body to die
leave my body to die

i got my picture back today

and even though i just sat quietly
in a corner of my room
with the blinds shut
and the door locked,
even though i stared at the ceiling,
breathing in and out, in and out,
and came to terms with it,
even though i convinced myself i'd be okay,

somehow my skin looks ready to be checked out,
my eyes are two overfilling ponds,
somehow my voice chokes and croaks,
somehow my fingers have stained the carpet

and there's this girl in my head
and she's screaming
and i would give anything to make her stop
stop digging at her cells
stop burrowing into her DNA
stop exhuming her genes

i will always stay this way,
i wish i could tell her.
i will always stay this way,
and it's pointless to think otherwise.