< 30th september >
dear diary,
isn't it funny how no one talks about the aftereffects of bullying? especially when you purely love all the people who bully you and think that they're joking, that it was just their way of loving back until you realize the truth. until they forget everything and you're still slicing yourself apart everyday, preparing yourself to hide because they have filled that habit of self loathing in you and no matter how hard you try to love yourself it just doesn't happen. until you're cradling and cursing and rocking yourself anxiously with your head borrowed in your legs in the middle of the night squeezing your eyes out and mindlessly asking the air that god i loved you all so so so much so why, why did you have to do that to me? until you're alone in a room screaming "all i did just to make you happy still you don't even fucking love me. jigsaw. jigsaw. jigsaw. jigsaw." until you run out of all your talents and distractions because you have been bleeding enough to let your body wrinkle and dry. until the puzzle pieces aren't me at all.
i have the anger of a million greek soldiers in the current little me for every little thing and it dosen't better me in any aspect, all it does is make me who i am, merely small. i tried no i try so hard to forget each and every thing like they did but it's difficult when you're on the other side. it's difficult when you lost your entire self and they're all happy, living their lives as if they never did a single wrong and made mistakes purely because they were young. see but they won't remember that i was young too, probably at least half or one year younger than all of them. i want them to feel the buring, lashing, murderous agony that i do. the regret grief paranoia all of it. i want all of their friends to leave them for someone horrible and i don't want anyone to believe in them.
sometimes i wonder what would have happened had i not been a poet who had to trust that i was likable. even with this strange vessel where i'm contained? never.
unfaithfully,
your friend
YOU ARE READING
open scarlet letters
Non-Fiction"we're so young but we're on the road to ruin, we play dumb but we exactly what we're doing we show off, our different scarlet letters" (new romantics, taylor swift) the chronicles of a not very stable person recorded through diary entries. a new a...
