E.D

Sat, 05/06/2017 - 04:08 -- bbelluh

pain. when you're in pain for much of your day, you'd do anything to rid it away, but you cant. all you do is sleep and pant. when you've given up on such, just to sit in the muck an drown. drowning in these, "emotions", i'd rather slice my wrist till i meet my vein. but i havent. drugs, food is the only drug i hate. the only drug thats not great. the hate goes towards my weight, whom i cant retaliate, retaliate at the last thing i ate. enchiladas with some sour cream and salsa, lowkey makin my stomach, no not even my stomach, making my brain turn. left to right, right to left, i hate my stomach, i hate my limbs. i hate the fact that everything i do, or say, is just blown in the wind, away. when you sit, and neat pick all your flaws UP AND DOWN and for a moment, you think, you're beautiful. Just for that one moment, and you begin to eat. to nourish your brain, to treat yourself right for once. the cycle starts right over again. counting calories. i dont even count. i eat one thing a day, thats all i care about. I barely drink water, my hands are peeling, im losing hair, im literally decaying. my body is slowly but surely eating away, at all the sick memories my peers have made. i understand 5th grade is more than 5 years past, but holy shit it was a pain in the ass. When I was about six, I ended up with trich. I remember. I thought there were monsters above me one night, pluck by pluck they disappeared and i was safe. the next morning my mom freaked, and i was the school freak. bullied. harassed. physically hurt. i didnt tell anyone, i thought i was a jerk. clearly people didnt like me for a reason, no i didnt understand. but i remember the first time i held your hand. I felt safe at first, wasnt really sure. but then you hurt me so bad, i still have my doubts and insecurities, because i was and still am only secure when only you're around me. pigeon legs, chicken legs, fat arms, soft skin, tiny cat scratches turning into trying to heat up a spoon to burn my delicate skin, to cutting deeper and deeper the more experienced i get. the first cut i mad, only 10 years old. i was tired of life, i wasnt very bold. everyone bothered me, from reality to in my head. im starting to hear the voices right before i go to sleep. my house is constantly chaotic. no time for rest, my doors busted down by my anger outbursts mixed with the anger from the kids. anger from me being present. anger for being alive, no ones ever really liked me, dont even lie. if you loved me you would see, how much damage youve done to me. my mind is sick, i believe im being watched, that everyone i meet hates me, anxiety gets to me and i shake. i control my fears by giving me the strength to say 'hey, i finally havent ate'. the only control i have in my life, where no one tells me what to do, where im only listened to, where i can decide whether or-not decide. im prone to this sickness, it is me, unfortunately. i dont care. i never cared. especially now, im such a fucking cow. when my brain is altered by the magical herb mj, i decide to eat all day. i have no care in the world, not until my comedown. then im depressed, and i wanna drown. i wanna hang, i wanna get hit by a train, i wanna jump over an overpass, i wanna walk into an intersection without looking back. the desire of death interests, what happens? will i go to this heaven every one believes in? will my 'soul' be reborn into another living organism? will i have to relive my worst fear? the fear of life, and living. i cant live. i cant breathe, i cant eat, i cant sleep, i cant write, i cant create, i cant even talk to anyone about what i ate, because WHAT is there to talk about? The weather? My future? what future? if anything, my faint heart will stop beating, and everyone's words, and sorrow, will mean nothing.

This poem is about: 
Me

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