"the yellow trap"

please tell me i'm strong 

because hearing it from myself sounds selfish. 

please tell me what i've never wanted to be told 

up until now, even if that makes me a hypocrite. 

i'm still somehwere between "i'm sorry i did this to you" and "you deserve it." 

i'm not sure whether 

my body healed or simply became more immune 

to the things i used to feed it. 

surely, it became immune to prozac after a short time. 

i tried taking photos of myself 

as a form of self love i could look back on. 

but when i opened the albums and saw it all: 

the crooked nose, the small lips, the cellulite and awkward proportions 

acceptance became bewitched into more self-hatred. 

and i find this incredibly ironic 

given my original intentions, and given the fact 

that i was supposed to see all of these things and accept them 

yet in the end, no, as of now, 

i still cannot. 

even after everything i've endured 

everything i have undergone 

you'd think i could at least be a little proud 

of all the things i've managed to get through 

but even if untrue, it feels as if 

i'm still stuck on square one 

and i'm not really sure if i will ever rip away from it. 

and if i do, my skin will still remain with the trap. 

the yellow, sticky trap. 

even though the insides, the heart, are supposedly the important parts 

without my skin i'll forever be predictable.