The noise of it fizzing in your head
Always too loud
To be drowned out by anything
And your neck is cold now and there is sweat there on your skin
And outside it is very dark
And in the room nothing moves except for you
And nothing makes a sound
You drown in silence
Your body a sort of horror, really, something awful, a cosmic joke
And it feels good
Nails against flesh
Because then at least it seems real, external, physical, even though you know that consciousness is material, is neurons and synapses and electricity, all of it made up of atoms, which themselves are made of smaller things, and so on.
It is so hard to breathe sometimes, to do so effectively
And at a pace one might call regular.
Even in your head it is difficult to name this
Words have power after all,
And there are only so many synonyms
And few of them are more palatable than the concept of death.
You are not the sort of person who feels this way
And so you don’t
It isn’t real
You’re exaggerating, surely.
You arm bleeds, where you scratched it.
The tile is cold but that doesn’t really matter
Nor does it’s hardness
Nor does the fact that you have been here
Lying still, unmoving,
For approximately half an hour
Nor does it matter that the only thing that rouses you is the fear that you will be discovered
On the Ground
And you will have to explain why.
But you still laugh sometimes, so it can’t be that bad.
You can’t be that far gone.
You can’t really be in trouble.
Time doesn’t happen anymore, not like it used to
Not like when you were a child
And things seemed simpler
And maybe worthwhile
Before you realized how much better it would be if you weren’t such a burden
Such a useless, worthless thing.
But you still laugh sometimes
Or smile at least
And you try not to let it show
That you are slipping
Because that might be unpleasant for them
It might bring down the mood
And in any case, it’s just a bad day
This is just how life is
You’re just not strong enough to bare the weight of what others carry without thought.
It’s easier to cry in the rain
Or in the shower
Late at night
When no one is listening.
You can cry as long as the tears hold
As loud as you want
Until you have a headache.
But the water is warm
And the light is kind of soft and glowy
Sort of lovely
And your legs are such wretched things
And your arms
And all the other bits, hairy and sodden and ugly
And you can’t understand why you feel this way, why it hurts so much
Why it all seems so wrong
Until you do
Slowly at first
Because you’d never imagined that this could be you
And you are frightened
But one day you see her, on that show, and she is happy
And she is loved
And she has sex and enjoys it, and you finally understand
That you can be like her
That you can be okay.
You stop cutting your hair
You go to a thrift store and buy girl jeans, cut them into shorts
Take your t shirts and alter the necklines, shorten the sleeves
And you shave your legs and it feels good
The stretchy denim against your skin.
It’s hard though. You still cry.
Still feel wrong.
Still think sometimes it would be better to leave.
But you keep going, and you know they love you, even when your mind tries to tell you they don’t.
You know they care
That they want you around, even if you don’t always want to be here
Want to feel it.
But a day will come sooner than you think
When you look in the mirror and
See yourself for the first time in so many years
And you will cry for the miracle of that.
Hold her tight, this girl, this frightened creature
Remember what it feels like to love her
You did it once
Back when it was easy
Before you learned that nothing is promised
That life is pain
That you have to fight for the breath in your lungs.
Hold her tight and remind her that it is worth it, this mess
This beautiful catastrophe.