#selfharmtw
You were never meant to be a
pretty girl.
The adults always said
you were so beautiful as a baby,
had such a natural smile,
had such clear skin,
[what happened?]
You could have been
Beautiful,
but you spurned
Beauty.
Gave her the middle finger
didn't even try to tame fingers
that ripped yourself apart.
In the end
the adults were right.
There came a day
when you looked at yourself -
really looked,
surveyed the damage
and suddenly
you Cared.
You wanted to slink back to
Beauty,
beg for her forgiveness.
But it's not so easy
and it's not so simple.
You never had the
discipline,
never had the
follow through,
always did have
commitment issues.
So you made a choice.
If you couldn't have
Beauty
you would court
her opposite.
These days you
give the middle finger to
Beauty
every time you
dare to look good
while baring your wounds, your scars
like tattoos,
like fine works of art.
These days you
make offerings to
The Grotesque
with your blade
and your blood
and your bits of skin and nails.
And Beauty's opposite
takes them all,
and Beauty's opposite
is easy to please
and
you were never meant to be a
pretty girl.
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 12:38 PM UTC
In the movies this doesn’t happen.
The lovers don’t dissolve into nothing
after visits and good times and bad times and pet names and words like
safe
and
Soulmate
and
The One.
They don’t break up and
stay that way.
In the movies,
there’s unconditional love
and sometimes it’s tragic but
it’s always
unconditional,
But me?
I’m not the unconditional love
kind of grrl,
I’m only a grrl with
bad habits.
Pick my lip, my leg, pick my arm until I see red,
cut my arms up because I’m bored,
play games with my meds,
swipe my parents’ alcohol,
fall in love with
crazy grrls,
fall in love with
Impossibility.
-
I want to be able to Love forever but
wanting to talk to you
is only another bad habit,
only wanting another hit
to get the high before the fall.
See for me,
love is a high
and a
crash.
There is no in between.
-
I want to be able to Love forever but
when I say I miss you
there is no feeling
when I say I want you
there is no feeling
when I say your name
there is no feeling.
I know now.
There are no soul mates.
There is no One.
(there is no one).
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
WELCOME TO SHRAPNEL CITY, SPITTING ***** OUT LIKE BULLETS, OR PEOPLE, OR GRAINS OF SAND, OR PLANETARY SYSTEMS. I SAY “I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING ****** UP IN MY HEAD” LIKE SOME PEOPLE SAY “IT'S RAINING OUTSIDE” AND MAYBE THAT'S REALLY ****** UP BUT I CAN'T WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO ROMANTICIZE ME WHAT IF THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME BUT THAT'S OKAY, IT'S NOT VIOLENT OR NASTY OR ****** SO THAT MEANS IT'S HEALTHY, RIGHT? THAT MEANS WE'RE HEALTHY, RIGHT? EVERYONE HAS BAD DAYS, SWEETHEART I WANT TO DRAW EYES ON MY WHOLE BODY, COVER MYSELF IN SOMETHING GOOD, PEEL OFF MY SKIN AND MAKE IT INTO A SONG THAT OTHER PEOPLE CAN BLEED / CRY / SMOKE TO (THIS IS MY DREAM, I SAY, AND I THINK YOU MIGHT BELIEVE ME). I HAVE A DEATHLY FEAR OF CHOKING BUT I LIKE IT WHEN MY CATS SCRATCH ME BECAUSE IT GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO BLEED THAT I DON'T USUALLY HAVE, AND ISN'T THAT JUST SO WEIRD? ISN'T THAT SO CUTE? DON'T LOOK AT MY LEGS, OR MY FINGERS, OR MY SCALP, DON'T ASK IF I'VE BEEN GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP. IGNORE THAT I EXIST (I DON'T). IT'S OKAY, I WON'T MIND. I WEAR SWEATERS ALL THE TIME SO NO ONE CAN SEE MY CHEST AND I SAY IT'S A GENDER THING BUT ACTUALLY IT'S MORE LIKE AN I-HAVE-SCRATCH-MARKS-AND-SCARS-ALL-OVER-MY-CHEST-AND-I-THINK-I'M-BECOMING-LESS-OF-A-REAL-PERSON THING. IS THAT MESSED UP? IS THAT WEIRD? IS THAT CUTE? I'LL PUT IT ON A T-SHIRT, MAYBE. IT'S NOT SELF HARM, I JUST DON'T LIKE HAVING BUMPS ON MY BODY. DOES THAT MAKE IT BETTER? DO YOU FEEL LIKE A HERO YET? I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I REALLY AM
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC