you gave me the warmest november

you know, I spent the last few days with a new boy(s) but it does not compare

I have always known love to be a losing game but it is starting to become twisted

promise me you will stay away

i only miss you when I am up at three am         

i only miss you when the new boy does not laugh at my jokes

promise me you will stay away

you are almost out of my system

I should have been someone by now. I should be able to stand on my own two feet. i should feel secure in the space i take up. I got disappointments scattered across my bedroom floor. A couple days ago i cried while filing out job applications, I am running out of time, this type of anxiety is new. I would say I am all burned out but that alludes there was a flame to begin with. If there is a light at the end of the tunnel I cannot see it. They say nothing lasts forever but i cannot remember a time when my existence did not feel like an inconvenience.

love is easy, letting them touch my skin, letting them feed me empty promises is easy. The chase makes me feel lethal and it is the only time I feel powerful. I suppose love is power…right?he calls me baby and in that moment every inch of me belongs to him. Falling is fun, the consequences come when you try to forget him. It is unlearning the small details, it is learning to be comfortable without their presence. My stomach is in knots, if he had stayed we would be laughing at one of my awful jokes. It is impossible to train the heart to be content alone. Letting him devour me did not terrify me, however, when he decided he was hungry for something else it left me cold. What terrifies me is feelings change without a warning. I still have all their numbers saved. Hope does not die as fast as our love did. Hope makes me a fool, every fucken time.

 

Desperately, is the only way I know how to love.

I think I love to try and prove something

prove to this body: see, I can love

Eating sometimes feels like clockwork

and I know what I’m suppose to do:

Just eat.

Now that I’m heavier again no one asks how I’m doing, which I like, I can have water in place of meals again.

Recovery is sort of funny, another word for recovery is guilt.

Sometimes I’ll go a whole day without eating and then these cliche quotes start flooding in, love yourself, your body is a temple.

Then the facts tag along, you will die if start doing this again.

Your body will go into starvation mode and save the fat, I learned that in health class.

Losing all the weight gave me a sort of high, I know that’s sick, and I don’t wish this on anyone.

 

He reminds me that if I am happy it is because he is letting me

“Don’t you forget whose shoulders carried all your baggage and who you called at three am. Don’t you dare forget loving me kept your demons at bay, I did that for you.”

I wonder how much more of me would exist if I did not give pieces of myself to boys who wanted to play god.

I wonder why I let them

What I should have told him was this happiness is mine, how dare he try to put his name on it

I put in the blood, sweat, and tears

I spent weeks drowning in isolation

I called the hotlines

His hero complex is not my problem and I am done existing for the sake of validation

I am happy and it is all mine, it is not yours to claim like a lost child or a reward.

 

 

I want to believe in love. I want to believe someone out there is willing to see every damaged piece of me and still wake up alongside me.

However, that can wait. Can’t it?

I want Rome and Portland, I want Stratford and so many other places. I want to discover every inch of me before introducing myself to them.

I want shitty apartments and tattoos I’ll regret. I want a certain kind freedom I’ve been yearning for since my heart discovered loneliness.

I want to pick myself up, dammit, I deserve to save myself. I want, just once, to decide that I am worth saving.

besides, I think people are eternal, their laughs and secrets are locked in every sunset and cloud. Our dreams hang on the branches of every tree, memories scattered along with the rain.

So let me have this, let me have this, let my heart latch on to a city and couch before a person.

It is all I ask.

he is the closest I got to

forever

he was my best chance at getting my grace back

nothing racy

nothing explicit about you and I

it was something like a harmony when you said my name

can I get you back and keep you forever?

tucked in my pockets where my spare change can keep you safe? (just till we get back to cloud nine)

The flowers will bloom, the birds will soar, and I will be reborn.

Perhaps the violet in my hair will reflect the lilac sunset,

I might dance with the fear of growing up too fast, too soon,

I’ll lay in the grass that’s fading, and I won’t feel so alone.

I just might fall in love with the dirt that allows everything to flourish.

I will allow the wind to take me home, wherever that may be.

I read somewhere a good writer is honest.

damn.

it used to be easy, I would write about loving a boy so much I was afraid I would burst. I would write about getting drunk and telling him my deepest secrets. I used to write about wanting to rip myself open when he left me.

I milked my heartbreaks till I got every drop.

now all I have is my own self hate, anxiety, and lack of self esteem, nothing is covering that up. I cannot blame my shaking hands on missing his touch anymore. I do not even remember their names anymore. This is on me and my refusal to get better.

It’s terrifying, to come face to face with your demons.

Now that every inch of them is gone I can see all the damage I did.

I do, I do want to write about it but I am terrified, I have done so much damage in the name of finding happiness.