Repeatedly he asks me why I refuse to love myself and close my ears when people tell me why I should.
But this, this he does not understand.
How do I explain to him that what I give him freely others have taken? How do I tell him that while he has never stolen from me my mind is wicked and twists the images in my head, a cruel joke. How could I ever tell him, or anyone for that matter that before lust walked the earth there were times that I liked the things I hate? How do I say that while fire rages in my mind and I look at myself I am repulsed, that I wish sorely to escape my skin, that this flesh has always felt foreign and dirty to me and I want so badly to dispose of it? How could I possibly talk about the things that make me cringe and my throat swallow back down in disgust at even speaking of?
Tell me how to tell him things I've never said aloud.
