when i was 11 i started to hate my body. i didn’t like the way i looked, felt, my small boobs and big thighs, my stomach, my butt, my face, my feet or toes. and i made myself suffer for this, a fucked up cycle of but you would be perfect if you were thin. please, please, let me be thin. and people say, but you are so beautiful, honestly. and i think, that is sweet of you, but i’ll be even prettier when i’m skinny. and i measure my self-worth with how much i weigh. and i’ve lived with this for seven years.
for a while i was happy. i stopping starving, stop berating myself, stopped avoiding mirrors and baggy clothes that made me look smaller, stopped selling myself short to boys with hands that burned, who didn’t look me in the eye, who didn’t care. because this is what love does to you. it makes you forget that you are worthless. it lets you sag your shoulders and embrace someone else’s warmth and smile. i was in love with a boy who made me feel beautiful and no one had ever spoken to my soul the way he did. and i was free. i had no chains, no worry. i ate healthier and i ran and i made love and i looked at myself naked in the mirror and i was okay.
but now i don’t have this boy. and that’s okay, he’s better off, with a girl who will love him more and treat him better and listen to his fantastical ideas about space & art. i will always miss him, he was always been an open wound in my chest that every so often i will press my fingers to, just to remind myself . i am in a constant dull ache, and i’ve started to pick and prod, you are not good enough, you could be better. you could be beautiful if you tried. people would look and say, that girl is so lovely & thin. you could work for this. and i know, i can feel the hatred creep into my veins like hot tea down my throat, like the meals i have started to skip, like the excuses in my brain when it points on that doing to this only makes weight loss temporary, that if i’m good enough, i’ll finally look the way i’ve always wanted.
and i think, i am so alone. i left alone with these thoughts and fuck if i’m that girl who is co-dependent. i am free and wild and full of heart, and i am smart and educated and pretty, and for a reason i wish is that someday, somehow, i will be the girl i see inside my dreams, weightless and feather-light and wispy like a willow. i will be thigh gaps and dainty arms and rib-cages, i will be a shadow, sneaking along your the corners of your heart, hiding, waiting, poking, this is what i have become. this is seven years in the making.
and just know, i am okay. i am strong. only a small part of me is suffering, like a constant ache in the back of my mind, and it is in silence.
finds me in lonely and dark places.
i really wish you didn’t love me so much, with so much of your heart. i wish you wouldn’t wish me a nice night and i wish you wouldn’t use your special nickname for me, i wish you wouldn’t leave off the -an of the my name when it rolls off your tongue, i wish you didn’t smell so much like home, my pillows, my clothes, my skin. i wish you wouldn’t check up on me when i’m upset, because you make me upset. ‘us’ makes me upset. i am in a constant state of daze, between not feeling anything and feeling too much, and honestly, there are moments when i say, i am okay. and people say, wow, you’re doing so well, and i think, but i’m not. it’s not that i’m overwhelmed, not at all. i’m underwhelmed. you are not strikingly painful, you are a dull ache somewhere in my gut, you make my bones creak because my body misses you, misses the way you felt against me. no one will ever receive as much of my heart as you did, no one will ever hear the same exact thoughts my soul spoke to yours ever again. we are unique to each other because i was your first. i am burned into your skin, and i wish, i wish that there was a place and time were we could struggle and survive.
however, this is not the place. i am growing, up and away, fading like a tendril of smoke in your hands and even though it might drown me i want you to love me a little less daily, i want you to not be so attune to my heart, i want you to think of me less and consider me less and someday, someday, i will be a girl in your distant memory and we can both breathe properly again.
there is that fear, an old fear of mine, since the beginning of ‘us’, that no one will ever love me like you love me. but i know someone will love you much more than i did. i will live with my fear, because a bird told me once that if you love something, you have to set it free.
I sincerely hope you’re dealing with this better than I am. I have never felt so alone. I cried in the shower and then I didn’t comb my hair. I picked out a christmas tree. I am okay, I repeat, but my bones feel as hollow as a birds. But I can’t fly. I am anchored to you. We are not undone. This is just time apart. This is just time apart. This is just time apart.
But I can’t love you so far away.
you are so beautiful, and i am so tired.