how bad i wish skin was easier to cut, for bones to be easier to break, for blood to be easier to drain.
i realize it is pretty easy, as long as that’s what you desire, but still there’s something that’s holding me back from those desires.

once i’ve finally gave in to these desires i wonder what’s keeping me from cutting deeper. seeing blood flow is my current desire, yet i wonder why my wish won’t be granted, as all i see is a scratch. a simple scratch is not what i desired, yet it is all i’ve gotten so far. how deep into this endless rabbit hole must i go in in order to get what i want? at this point i ask myself wether this is my true desire or not.

in the third act i am back again. a new desire has made its way into my mind screaming and it is begging to be heard. merging with my soul, mind and body, i find myself as an hybrid of these desires that now compose my whole existence and guide my life. it does not revolve around me now, as it never should have been. even though crying is what my soul yearns for, my body won’t give in. it is as it wants me to grieve more and more, until I just give up and go one way or the other. it’s so loud, it hurts my head and my body is shaking. my lungs just can’t take it. I just need to let go, but I can’t and that’s even more painful than a blade running through my skin, cutting the tissue, craving to hit an artery, make it all stop, to enjoy that brief moment of euphoria where I beat everything that was holding me back and make it to my freedom. that sweet journey that took all I had and crushed every one of my hopes and dreams, that horrible journey that made me think there was a way out.

everyday i wake up to a reality that i’m not willing to face.

I was fifteen
when I said no
but a hand pressed against the back of my neck
as tears ran down my face  
he said "if you loved me you'd do it.
you wouldn't be crying"
and he took what he wanted anyways.
I wish I'd known better;
I wish I'd told my mother.

I was seventeen
Dating the only boy I've ever  I loved
when his fingers grazed my neck
and I cried
and apologized because
I couldn't explain why.
I couldn't tell my mother.

I was twenty one
when I finally realized what happened to me
wasn't the way it was supposed to be
and I lost something I didn't know I had
that I'd never know why;
that I should've listened to my mother

I was twenty three
when he returned
with the audacity to ask if I wanted to hook up
I wish I'd had the courage to say something
to tell him what he did wasn't fair
that I should've known better,
that he should've been better;
that I wish I'd listened to my mother.