Overweight.

Never has something felt so exhausting, never have I thought of it as costing me my life. A dime to just waste time. Every second, every minute, every hour is sour because I'm not who I imagine myself to be. A dime a dozen tangled in my woven habits of life & choices. Some that aren't even mine. Could it be a coping mechanism that which in my physical prism is interrupted & corrupted by the sudden heartbreak of a heartbreak kid who did love to much. Every now & then I catch myself on health KICK. Not being able TO PICK certain clothes because from my head to my toes I'm overweight. I'm not particularly some girl's fantasy or dream, is what I seem to think. Because who could love someone that doesn't even love them-self. It's not that I'm suicidal, it's just how did I get here? How could I not love myself enough to know that too much is too much. Serving, after serving not realizing that I'm only hurting myself. I'm society's C.O.O.L kid. Constipated overweighted out of style loser. Who's words of themselves don't bruise here in my heart.  It's just that I've never felt like I've played my part, because my character's description doesn't rely on some insulin prescription, or a waist of about hmm idk 38 inches.

 

Never has something felt so exhausting.