Love Thyself

The scale for this part of the test was 0-5.

If you had a score of 2 or higher that meant you screened positive.

I score a 2.

Mild eating disorder. Nothing extreme like before, nothing I’m too surprised about either.

You never really stop feeling it, the innate feeling that you are not good enough. That your body is good enough.

I can look at pictures of me from before and think to myself “much too thin. Unhealthily thin.” And I think I’ve made progress.

I look in the mirror somedays and I like what I see, a slim yet fit girl at a 4’11 stature. No frail looking arms, no “abs” abnormally prominent at all times. A girl with a sweet face and a soft but toned stomach.

Other days are harder. I see a child. Hips not big enough, a face that is too full when I smile—memories of baby fat still aglow. Long arms but a short torso that feel oddly mashed together.

The hardest days are the ones when I feel the past mindset trickling in. Because those days I don’t need to eat more than a few bites of my food. As long as there are no headaches I am fine. I don’t need to eat another slice of pizza just because I’m not entirely full yet. My breasts are too big and abnormally placed on my chest, my stomach protrudes ever so slightly but enough to make my skin crawl.

I am in a world where I must be perfect. My size, my look, my entire being is scrutinized to make sure I still fit my “brand”. I am trying desperately to love myself in this world. Mentally? I may always score a 2, I may always live with a constant scratch in the record that causes me to think of old habits.

But I can also sit here and say that it’s a 2, not a 5. I doubt myself, but I know when I need help. This is a journey I must go on, sometimes I may need a guide along the way.

You can live with the thoughts of a 2, but always rely on the fact that you know how to get to 0.

That is hope I hold onto for myself. The idea that helps me know that self love is attainable for me.

Advertisements

Why.

why

 

You should’ve told me. I gave you every opportunity to confess even though the answer was right there the entire time, I was just hoping–praying–you wouldn’t hurt me like this. That you didn’t have the capacity to completely rip apart what little shreds of dignity I scraped along after him.

It’s not like December. Maybe in some raw form, but honestly if I take a clear look at the events of before and now, it’s day and night. You see, I had the courtesy, the respect, to be upfront about what happened between me and him. But you, you hid behind a fake facade of care and love to make yourself feel a little less guilty.

And I am hurting so much. This is to be expected from other people, people that we used to gawk and stare at incredulously; “How could someone do that” we’d ask each other “How can another girl sleep with her friend’s ex? They’re like sharing or something that’s so gross.” How could you do that? Especially knowing how I was with him not even a few days prior.

And I lied to you I’ll admit, I said that we weren’t going to hook up anymore. But that was a full, intentional lie. He told me to lie, said it was for the best and I fully believed that and I still kind of do. But then again I don’t. Because maybe you would’ve had a little bit more self control, maybe you would’ve remembered that I HATE LYING. Especially when you think it’ll make the truth a little bit more tolerable. But it doesn’t it makes it so much worst. It makes you wonder if every single memory of our friendship is fabricated and underlying with lies and betrayal.

It makes me wonder if you were ever my friend at all. You don’t care about me. Be honest with yourself and realize that “family” doesn’t do that shit. At least my family doesn’t. You only want me around because I care about you. You’re just like him. And don’t you dare say he cares about me ever again. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re saying that more to yourself than me. Which sickens me even more.

I can’t sleep, I don’t have any care to eat or take care of myself properly. I just want to punch a wall until my knuckles bleed, or cry until my throat goes hoarse. Anything to get rid of the burning I feel anytime I look at you.

So why do you continue to interact with me? If you cared you would leave me alone, you would let me hurt and heal and wait until I was ready to look you in the eyes. But instead you make attempts to smile at me, to wave, to make a joke. Do you not understand I’m too weak to properly ward you off? That you have literally stabbed me in the back and each glance my way is another twist.

That every single time I see you two within feet of each other I wonder how two people I thought I loved, that I thought loved me don’t give a fuck as long as I’ll be around to catch them when they slip.

And I was just a pawn in both of your lives.

So tell me Why. Why should I forgive and forget?

 

White noise

 

1B116298-6B7B-4798-948B-74FE49E52577

“Are you ok?” Um no not really thanks for asking.

“ Is everything ok?” Define ok.

“How can I help?” I don’t know, I’m sorry but I really don’t know.

“What’s going on with you?”  I just, I can’t breathe, I feel numb but everything is on fire.

“Why do you look so down?” Oh it’s nothing see look I’m smiling, I’m smiling I promise.

“I’m here ok I promise.” You said that before, you left me before.

“You’re not alone I’m here.” Then why do I feel so far away?

“You’re special you are, I promise.” How? Tell me how. Tell me. See, you can’t.

“Let me help you.” I never tried to stop you. You just gave up.

“Look at how many people love you.” I know, fuck you, I know, and I love you.

“You’d really do that to them? Really?” Please I just, I can’t breathe. It hurts. I’m hurt.

Give me a reason to stay on this earth. A real reason.

I think we’re the ones

 

IMG_7653

 

I think we’re the lucky ones.

I’ve seen relationships around me rise and fall in the darkest of ways, I’ve seen people sob until their eyes could barely lubricate themselves and scream until their voices ran hoarse. I’ve heard stories of manipulation and mind games tearing even the kindest people apart, twisted them into mangled heaps of their former selves.

I think I made it out with only minimal mental scars and a heart that still beats at a normal pace.

I think you think about me from time to time and feel a familiar ache, I think you feel some sort of regret; I think you wish you could still reach out and touch my hand without me jerking back or flinching, with fear frozen in my half brightened eyes.

I think about you during thunderstorms, how easy it would be to send you a message asking you to be back in my life. How the sound of rainfall seems to soothe me to sleep just like your touch once did; I think about how our love was like lightning—fast, electrifying, and lethal.

I think about how stupid it is of me to keep thinking about you, how I keep writing about you. I’ve never written this much about one person, not since those 72 hours of utter hell last year.

I think we’re the lucky ones because if we really tried, we could start over again. And I think neither of us would really mind that at all.

But I think we’re the ones that were made to slowly poison each other; we just get to enjoy the process as we ride along.

genesis

Related image

I am alive after a small break of mainly clarity, among other things. I will not lie, the last time I wrote on here I was on the very edge of holding on–so close to letting it all slip away. I shudder now, cringe at the very thought of going through what I had planned.

It’s all so trivial; but all of the things that had happened revealed to me that abuse/manipulation comes in many forms. As I have ridden down from the natural high that person had once given me I have deduced key moments that should have been warning signs.

  1. He was hell bent on getting me out of a relationship that I was for the most part, very happy in. I was trophy, a challenge that confused him–I saw this as flattering but it was borderline obsessive and egotistical.
  2. He had a God complex. He wanted people to revere and maybe even fear him a little. He feels he deserves all of the respect and honor that the world can give without lifting a single finger. In small doses, this would be human–it would be acceptable. But at some moments it would consume him.
  3. He didn’t like being told no. The word “no” didn’t mean the same for him as it did others. It simply meant “maybe another time”, this was dangerous. This was something I didn’t take notice of, but should have. God, I should have.
  4. If he saw an opportunity, he took it. That was his fucking justification for lying, for cheating. He saw the opportunity, and he took it.
  5. I wasn’t allowed to be sad or upset. Any of my insecurities or a small voice of unsatisfactory was met with condescend and sneer. I was built up, but it was undercut with annoyance and manipulative speech of all that he would do for me. It was empty words that made me loathe myself for even suggesting I was worth more than a fleeting compliment.
  6. His love turned sour fast. Sometimes I find myself submerged in the thick honey of our sweeter times only to be yanked to the surface and find a trail of ants in the wake. It started out small, he would be on his phone a lot more when he was with me or not really pay attention if I said something. Then the demands for the so called preciousness between my thighs got a lot more insistent; and once he got that, our “special” times were always overcast with his jeering comments about my appearance, or his insistent flirting with other girls right in front of me.
  7. After everything was over, he wouldn’t let me go. Prom night–I went to prom with a group of friends, it was the prettiest I had felt in such a long time–it was the last slow song of the night. One of my dearest friends danced with me, we dramatically glided across the dance floor with as much extra flair as we could; I broke away to speak to some other friends of mine mid song and he walked over, asked me to dance. As that song ended, he kissed me. He kissed me and I think that led to my spiral downward that I mentioned before, he didn’t even feel the need to actually talk about it afterwards until I brought it up.It’s like he wants to see if he still affects me, and he’s right every time.
  8. I am so so so so so much stronger than him. I can breathe without him, I am lovable, I am beautiful, I deserve to be nurtured and cared for properly, and I fucking deserve to live. There will be times that I may falter when I see him, my breath may quicken ever so slightly the minute our eyes meet but I know damn well I can reach inside myself and find the willpower to never let him in again.

He will not erase my name.