as much as i'd rather be a bird or maybe, a cat
i have to remind myself that i am human
and i have a mother who is also human
and she had a mother who was also human
and sometimes, as a human, we lose our feelings
they fly away, sometimes, leaving humans not feeling.
feeling nothing but numbness, emptiness.
all i said was "i feel sad today".

she looked at the sky, gasping for her breath and praying
she prayed to her mother in the sky because she needs strength.
she says to the emptiness of the car, because i've melted into the seats into nothingness,
"god, why did you take her from me? she was all i had. now you have left me all alone with myself. and i cannot even save myself. how can i help my daughter too?"

she told the nothingness about how her grandparents came here for her, from the land of communism, sick and dying and seventy years old.
they died here and were buried in foreign soil, sad and alone. for her life to be better.
and about her mother, who left her daughter at seventeen to live alone for ten more years in the land, a victim of alcoholism and of the government.
she told me of the sacrifices they made for her own life to be better than theirs, and for the lives of her children.

the salt was drying on the face of the nothingness at this point, angrily staring out of the windows at the nothing.
she said it wasn't worth it.
the sacrifices they made for her were not worth it.

not worth the life of the nothing. that is why it is nothing. it is not something. and it is never anything.

and it will never be anything.

all because the nothing felt sad today.

i do good for my body,
so why does it hate me?
why, when i step on that scale
do i die a little inside?
why why why
why can't i ever be content
with how i look or feel.
man, i am tired;
i am tired of waiting
to be good enough for myself.
man, i am sick;
i am sick of crying
over the slight belly fat
and the cellulite
i graciously received from
my mother.
the curves i have been told
i am blessed to have,
feel like a curse.
the small, teardrop-shaped *******;
the baby-faced knee caps;
the hips shaped like
the body of a violin;
the thighs that touch,
that rub against one another
when i run, dance, walk
you name it
****.
****, is right.
body dysmorphia.
do you understand what i am saying now?
do you UNDERSTAND?
do you get the pain
of looking into a mirror
and seeing a disgusting creature.
like looking through a glass
of water and seeing
a morphed, unsightly image.
the skin i am in,
this skin stained with imperfections:
stretch marks, scars, moles, freckles,
skin tags, dimples, fat, sun damage;
the marks of love and growth
and progress and puberty.
i cannot shed this skin.
i need to learn
to live with this skin.
it is the skin i am in.

he is who i love.
you are the one i once fell for,
to the ground in pain,
in hell-raised agony;
and rose again
only to ask why, God,
must it feel this way
when you are near.

he is the beacon.
you were the light of the sun,
deflecting from my body,
permeating my skins paleness
and keeping my mind
rid of sanity;
persisting the everlasting thoughts
of a sweet, tantalizing end.

he is my best friend.
you were my best half,
of the negativity of me
and every other human
who dare to act
the way you do;
nonchallantly
dismissive,
and rude as all hell.

he says to me,
i remember when i was young.
i stood under the bridge
and watched as cars passed above me;
i stood there, alone
with my fishing rod,
waiting.
i waited and longed
to one day be able
to afford more than
a fishing rod.
now, i am fifty years old.
i have more money
than i ever imagined;
i can buy
more fishing rods
than i have fingers.
but i want you to see,
when you watch the cars pass above you;
let them go.
let them pass ahead,
all you need
is what is in your hands already.
because you can't be buried
with a car
with a house;
you can't take money
to the grave.
to live simply,
that is the bridge
between life and death
to the nirvana.

destruction,
as a form of creation.
annihilation,
the first step to evolution.
natural disaster,
the checks and balances
to human eradication.
it is the wars of nature
that breed progression.

do tell my love,
ill come home
one day;

ill come home
one day,
when my mind
is clear
and i can stop
breathing
to look up
at the sky
and think,
'wondrous, beautiful
this world is
simply astounding.
so, this is
what i've been
missing?'

i crumble under your fingers.
i break with your touch.
i weaken looking into your eyes.
i scream imagining your body.
i tear out my hair
reliving that night.
i run away from you,
away from myself
into the dark.

stop, it hurts.
stop, leave me be.

you tainted my soul,
that night broke me
into a million
pieces.

where on earth
is the remorse?