I have the misfortune of being a failure and a success all in one.
I’m not quite sure how I got here,
But I did.

Each day growing up,
I think a piece of me died.
Half my body became a dead weight for the other to carry
And in time,
My baggage doubled the weight.

Every second of every day,
I hear six billion people screaming at me,
Feel their disappointment,
Get burned by their anger.
Six billion nonexistent voices
That feed my anxiety
And drench the dead half of myself in worry.

I have no comprehension as to what I have made of myself
I’m not sure how I am standing here
Because being split in two with one side of myself working
The other having given up
Is terrifying.

I am the girl who was meant to cut herself.
I am the girl who wasn’t meant to make it this far.
I am the girl that hates herself,
But loves herself,
And hates herself again.

I am the girl that can’t stand her own reflection
And fears the red writing on her school papers.
I am the girl that was never meant to love herself
Or ever be loved by someone else.
I am the poster child for abusive relationships,
Of which are the only kind I could picture myself in.
I am the girl that was meant to give up.
And I did.

But the other half of me somehow ended up stronger 
Because it carries the life of the pathetic part of me
Along with the books
And the stories
And the memories
And the people
That the other half of me is waiting to die and escape from.

I was never meant to get this far.
My heart bleeds crimson
At every mention of my name
Because it makes me think of every time I was this close to hurting myself
And giving myself what at least half of me deserves.

Every hug or compliment I receive
Comes with a fistful of resistance
A reminder to what no one could ever understand
Because it’s so much easier to let go of the light
When everything else goes dark
And it’s so much easier to hate every mistake I’ve made
Than to forgive myself.
People have never hesitated to remind me.

And how dare I ever forget the times I was arrogant enough to think I was worth something,
What it must’ve been like to give AND receive,
Because every gift I’ve been given makes me tense for the punishment
That has always been delivered for thinking I could deserve so much.
Every hello makes my heart quicken in anticipation
For the goodbye that familiar abandonment brings.

I don’t trust hope anymore.
Because every feeling of hope has left me conditioned to expect sadness
And bleeding,
And bruising,
And crying.
So I stopped hoping,
Thinking it would all be fixed,
But the side effects were permanently etched into my skin.

I am a character in a story who was meant to be a failure.
I am a character in a story who was meant to be the hero.
I don’t know which part of me to trust
When I can’t even save myself.
But maybe one day
The weak and strong pieces of me will fit back together
And the strong pieces will die too.
I’d rather be whole,
Even if it means I’m empty.