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Bugi Aug 2021
I've recently put on some weight
after being 95 pounds and twiggy for years.
I hate myself for the weight.
I see the past me and not even recognize myself.
I feel like I weigh too much to be beautiful, that the clothes I love to wear were made for 95 pound me.
I've morphed into someone I do not know yet.
My chest too big
My stomach the shape of a cereal box instead of an hourglass
My big hip-dips
My scars and my stretch mark.
I'm not beautiful to the modeling agencies
Or the people that run the tv.
I do not see people that look like present me,
only ones that look like past me.
I'm healthier now and happier,
but I cannot help but envy the skeleton,
The lost me.
The sad me.
The past me.
I hate that I envy her.
I wish I could accept the new me,
The alive me.
Bugi Aug 2021
Something that I’m passionate about is art. Whenever I’m stuck on a feeling, a thought, a memory, or even a conversation that makes me upset, I draw. I let my feelings flow through my pen or brush. It airs out all the gunk inside myself. Sometimes its just intense scribbles that tear up the page, or a bright painting, or maybe a crying clown. Its how I express myself. Its how I speak my truth. Its just how I relax, it’s calming, comforting, safe.
This is a poem I wrote in English class and thought it was good enough to post here.
Bugi Jun 2019
Let’s talk about here and now.
I know you’re no longer in control of your own soul.
What changed you?
Was it the hole in your heart that caused your body to burn like a California wildfire?

Open up to me, please.
Tell me about your wildest dreams.
When I show you the darker side of me
What is it exactly that you see?

Do you not like all of my questions?
Do they make you squirm in your seat?
Tell me, please.

Let me fill that hole for you
Put out that raging fire
Cause the longer you burn
The bigger your flames get
The more I start to melt away.

— The End —