Definitions
She may not be the very definition of beauty but her self-restrained chaos unravels all connotations of the word.
She’s more than a number, more than a status.
In a world of never ending can’ts, won’ts, shouldn’ts,
She broke through the cage,
constructed by others,
that surrounded her mind.
She reached a new dawning of self-acceptance.
She understood that the things that were maybe bad for her, were actually
What was keeping her sane.
A new perspective at every turn she learned more and more about herself everyday.
Her mother told her to “love herself first” to “be her own best friend.”
She never felt those words ring more true than when that blade
That cold blade
Was right against her neck
As she sat naked on the wet shower floor.
T
r
e
m
b
l
i n g
As she watched her life
S
P
I
R
A
L
down the drain
in the form
of a vicious
red
liquid
Never more true,
Than when she laid in her bed
Lifeless
For 4 and 5 days
Never more true,
Than when she found herself running to the bathroom
With every “Ding”
To avoid crying in class
Never more true,
When she felt
As if the pressure
Academics
Boyfriend
Gay?
Beauty
Would most surely be the end of her existence
Those words never struck her heart more with such voracious and unwavering denotation than when she clutched her stuffed animals at 2:23am,
Wondering
Why was she so worried about the future when she didn’t even want to have one?
A best friend is suppose to take care of you
Suppose to care what happens
Suppose to make it better
She never really was her own best friend
But she knew how to make it better
She learned
The overwhelming tidal waves of sadness that dragged her down below to a hellish depth of self-deprecation and loathing
Could be cured by a few slices on the skin
At least for now
She learned
That when her gut tore in every which way direction, begging for an ounce of food
If she punched her stomach
Laid quietly
And muffled her sobs
No one would be the wiser
It would stop, at least for now.
She learned
That when the alcohol set flame to her bloodstream
It felt too much like hatred
It was addictive
Fiery
Poisonous
She learned that when she was alone
The bottle was all too friendly
She learned that the tears and unwanted thoughts come
Far too quickly
She learned
That anger is a bubbling under the skin
That can be ceased,
If you take it out on yourself
However
She had no idea how to stop the world
Long enough to calm the multitude of emotions
That stampeded through her mind
Giving inspiration to her
Self-loathing
Thoughts
She couldn’t stop the constant aches or pounding headache
That somehow s e e p e d its way into her heart
Giving her a pain that was somehow unbearable
All she knows is she can’t stop the thoughts or endless nightmares,
She can’t stop the itching need to deface her own temple,
Nor can she stop the constant shaking
That seems to be silenced
By a cigarette between her fingertips
She may be a cliché stereotype
Of what girls with blogs,
And paint stained clothes,
Are expected to be;
Unhappy with themselves.
But I’m damned proud to say
That's not the case
I'm damned proud to say
She loves herself.