I’ve Been Losing My Appetite

I feel like everyone hates me

I feel like everyone hates me, I know it's in my head. Or maybe it's just the fact I've been boiling inside with anger bright as red. Or maybe it's a hidden animosity, where I tried so hard to be liked, that from the start it was set up for failure because I shifted myself outright. Maybe if I was louder they'd like me more? Maybe if I had more followers they'd think I was worth keeping around? Maybe if I was prettier they'd think I wasn't worth comparing? Maybe if I kept my tears quiet I wouldn't be so annoying? I'm sorry. I hope it's all in my head.

I’ve gotten used to being treated this way

I’ve gotten used to being ignored, of having my hellos be greeted with rolled eyes.

I’ve gotten used to my palms being stained with ink from letters I stayed up writing until dawn, waiting by the mailbox just to never get any letters written back.

I’ve gotten used to being as nice as I can be, and getting called unauthentic.

I’ve gotten used to you ignoring me as we pass through the hallway, as I sat alone on graduation day holding my own hand because no one wanted to hold mine.

I’ve gotten used to always being the one who messages first, and waiting for a reply until a new moon passes us by.

But maybe it’s time I get used to loving myself enough, to not make myself endure all of this. When will it be my turn to grow? To be apart from your shadow? Maybe it’s time to let go.

I walk underneath your shadow

no matter where I walk it's under your shadow. right beneath yours, intertwined. I don't know whether to be grateful or not. whether or not it's something I need. but on days where I need your shadow to keep me away from the sun, you walk a little farther, never there when I need it most. these days it seems that through distance, as you walk each step a little faster and farther, I can no longer feel your warmth. and your shadow has been making me feel colder. so maybe it's time to just stop moving and let your shadow walk alone. because I think I'm ready for this shadow to finally be my own.

I wish I was loved by you like the way you loved your loved ones.

I wish I was loved by you like the way you loved your loved ones. And it's funny but I should’ve read the signs, we were never as close as I thought we were. I admired you. I looked up to you. and that's where it stopped. That's where I should've realized that everything would've never been reciprocated.

Fingertips were always barely touching the glass it peered though. And maybe just maybe, I was the object on the other side, surrounded by long panes of glass, unable to escape. Maybe I was meant to be observed by you, but never truly loved by you.

It’s been 8 months now and I haven’t heard a word from you. I hope you know I miss you. But it’s time I stop trying. No more waiting to hear your voice, for invites on nights where I get lonely, on days where it’s rainy & the sun won’t shine. I've had enough. and I hope everything I gave you was enough. Because maybe truly, I’m meant to be alone to be able to finally break down the glass.

Just wanted to tell you that you’re doing amazing! Keep up being the best YOU that you can be!!

Thank you so much!! This made my day!! This is incredibly sweet!

I skipped so that you could have it

I skipped lunch because this week we couldn't afford groceries, so i put back the butter on the conveyer belt so it wouldn't scan towards the $10 i had in my pocket. I skipped breakfast and lunch so they wouldn't worry about how many bowls they had left for dinner, as my stomach ached in pain and I could feel it in my throat. my stomach turned itself around until I had to lay back down to be able to feel the ground again. head reeling, face flushed, and eyes rolling over until the dizziness made me feel numb. i skipped the thought of wanting to eat so no one would worry if the food was about to go to waste, and be wasted on me particularly. how many bowls until i'm actually done with the thought of having to think about the next bowl and how many bowls we could have altogether.

Why am I the exception?

I should’ve seen it from the start, perhaps I was always a henchman sent to do your biddings. but when it came to my knees being scraped, I got up on my own. I covered my cuts with bandages I found used on the side of the road. or maybe I was seeking comfort in places where I shouldn't have. I always do this. I'm so naive. I wish I didn't fall for every nicety. Sometimes I wish I was meaner. But it hurts me to be mean, and it hurts to be nice to myself too.

fingertips

my fingertips barely touch the surface of the mirror, in what reflects my most vivid of dreams. to be loved, touched like I’m a secret that’s meant to be told, and a reflection that’s seen but never meant to be shown.

i imagine what it feels to be admired, to match an energy so surreal my dreams can’t even begin to create a scene so magical. so what is it? will i ever be loved, respected, praised, or celebrated?

my fingertips have calluses from wrists bruised with scars deeper than stains. calluses so thick I can’t feel what I want to, and I don’t know how to react. to myself, to the world, and to anything at all.

so I shout, and I scream. and no one hears anything. maybe one day, I’ll be able to finally feel something.

I’ve forgotten myself recently

I’ve forgotten myself recently, I lost who I wanted to be. Or maybe I’ve never known who I am.

I know my weaknesses. I’m quiet, tired, soft, gentle, fragile, and an observer of those opposite of that. I yearn to find the confidence that lies in being outspoken, energetic, proud, and stable.

Maybe one day, I’ll find myself.

I wish I lit up the rooms I walked into,

I wish I lit up the rooms I walked into, but instead it feels as if I walk with a great cloud daunting over me. And every room instead fills with water, people feeling the weight of the cold on their ankles, feeling the crisp rain pouring on their skin, hair wet, & palms sweat with nerves. So they leave, because why stay near someone who makes a room so somber?

I have a soft voice, softer than petals falling in the wind. A voice that gets even dimmer when I feel like my last spark has been washed out by the rain, and silence reins in. I have a laugh that often gets called undesirable and unattractive. So I laugh quietly under my breath. I have big black eyes that stay puffy from the salty tears that hung them open the night prior. I have soft freckles under eye bags that are often forgotten, brown eyes and brown hair that are easily mistaken for any other softly green under-toned tanned girl. I have hair long enough to cover elbows that often get called terrifying by outsiders. I have bones that show through the seams of my dresses. I have wrists that often get measured by the fingertips of strangers.

I wish my voice was like thunder, striking a room like lightning. Unforgettable, strong, and beautiful. I wish my laugh was sweet like the summer, honest, acidic, tasteful, addicting and loud. I wish I had the courage to repeat myself when I haven’t been heard instead of shutting down. I wish I wouldn’t get mistaken for any other girl. I wish my eyes weren’t burnt from all the salt that they’ve cried. I wish my arms weren’t so tiny. I wish I stopped comparing myself to everyone.

But overall. I wish I was kinder to myself, and then maybe— just maybe, I’d be able to light up the room in which I’m the only one in it.