my body is not my own

I am rotting, my flesh and bones are decomposing, my skin is bitten off in chunks and i can’t breathe, my throat is tight and my lungs are twisted, i can’t feel my face and my legs won’t work, my skin is scarred and my teeth are yellow, i just want to feel better, i want to feel normal, i’m so exhausted, i'm so tired. I’m rotting inside my own decaying flesh, this cycle is making me feel dizzy, i can’t keep up anymore, i’m so sick and i’m so ill, i want to just run away from it all, never return, never come back, the cold is bitter but to me it is welcoming, i will lie awake for days and wonder where i went wrong.

This body is not my own, i might have control over it but it never belonged to me, it was always someone else, i do not recognize the face in the mirror or the pictures on the wall, i do not recognize the hands on my hips on the ones on my thighs, i cannot remember the feeling of affection but i can remember the hands pulling my hair, i will only remember the worst. I will let them tear my body apart but i will always be selfish for wanting to keep my bones.

I am difficult to love, that is common knowledge, the fear of abandonment will always be present in my blood, spilling out of my wounds to beg for company, i want to be loved in a way that doesn’t require my body to be handled in ways i never wanted it to be, i do not want to be branded as something i am not, i am heavy handed when it comes to what i’ve seen but please will someone hold these hands and tell her she will be fine.

I understand the others now, I understand how they could not love me because when I stare at myself, I don't think I can love her either. She is sickly and she is damaged, used to the point she cannot feel the way she wants to, when she cries her tears are as heavy as the hands she brings down on herself, as heavy as the dead weight in her chest. She will bleed for years and will never understand why. She will try desperately to rid herself of the place she has seen so much in, how can others stomach the thought of loving her when she can’t even love herself? How do others stomach loving me when I can't even think about loving myself? I will let myself rot the way they have left me to do so for all this time, my skeleton will prove unworthy to researchers and future museums.

I was never good enough in life.

And i will never be good enough in death.