Relapse (Edited Version)

This is the first time
in a really long time 
that I feel how I used to feel 
all the time

pulling, picking, scratching at my skin
wanting to crawl out of this disaster that i call
my body
wanting to stop listening to this never sleeping demon that i call
my mind
wanting, begging that the next time that I look into the mirror i will see
nothing.

blind.

i thought after 9 years I’d win this battle already
this battle of keeping you buried deep beneath
the symphony of forced laughter
deep beneath
the shimmer of forced smiles
deep beneath
the comfort of make believe love
created by hungry whiskey lips

believing that if i give this Stranger my
body for my well-deserved pain
that maybe this time 
this one will care to remember my name
and

i would finally understand what it's like to be

Beautiful.

Worth something.

The empty space beside me reminds me otherwise,

The reflection laughing back at me reminds me otherwise,

"stephanie, after 14 guys I thought you'd understand,

no one wants a fat girl defines self-worth by the number of her

one-night stands."

So here i am again close enough to lick the seat of this
a*s kissing toilet
3 fingers could never get deep enough inside my throat
3 fingers could never get deep enough to save my soul
3 fingers could never get deep enough
to get every last inch of my fat into this f*****g toilet bowl.

So here you go
here is my self,
to you Hate and to you Harm. Together we can play tricks.

And let clocks tick
& f**k anonymous dicks
decorate my skin with the most beautiful cuts
and try, and try again to remind myself to not give a f**k

to try and hide how I really feel

stephanie, what do you really feel?

 

I’d ask myself each and every night when the world became silent
and the only noise i could not drown out were the voices in my head

Voices in my head

The same voices who time and time again promise me:

stephanie, you would be so much happier dead.

This is the first time
in a really long time 
that I feel how I used to feel 
all the time

So I write.

And I remember.

To feel is not always a call to act

And I remember

This life is hard

really f*****g hard

But sometimes, you have got to have your own back.

And I remember

It are these struggles that make me who I am

It are these collapses that build the strength I have 

It are the moments I realize my face does not deserve to be this close to a toilet seat

It are the moments I realize

That I do not need anyone but myself 

to make me feel beautiful, whole, or complete.

So from the darkest moments of my life, I have discovered:

Beauty does not depend on the amount of men who love you,

the pants size that fit you, or what others want to tell you.

I have discovered that the most beautiful people are those

who can build miracles out of a life meant to be mess

it is discovering this kind of beauty

that reminds me to choose

life over death.

Reviews

[LiberatedBeing]

the comfort of make believe love
created by hungry whiskey lips

is a a powerful line. This poem is strong and quite darker than I expected. Quite powerful.