i lie awake at night and all i can do is hate my body

trigger warning: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, weight-related issues. if you need to talk to anyone about whatever you’re going through, find a crisis line in your area by clicking on the word here.

i lie awake at night, sometimes. and all i can do is hate the way i’m trapped inside my mind. and think about the future. and think about how much i hate my body just for not. being. tiny. and hate my head, for not working right. because i just wish i could magic away these bones, sometimes. i lie awake and i can imagine what it would feel like. to die. and i guess i’m addicted to the idea of that. because i just want the sky to stop collapsing for a second. just want to not feel the weight of my self-hatred crushing my skull only to remould it all over again, only no matter how many times i make myself anew it’s never perfect, like i need it to be perfect, because i will hate myself until i’m perfect— i lie awake at night, and it’s like 1a.m., and god i just need to go to sleep, and try my best to forget. forget. forget. because at this exact moment, if there was a potion i could take to wipe everything away, maybe i would take it. maybe i would wish myself dead. and this isn’t how i always am. it’s just… right now, i’m a fucking mess. right now, i am looking in the mirror and if i could rip myself apart i’m telling you. i’d do it. i’d remould this fucked up head and this fucked up body, and i would be better. i would be better. i would be better. i would gently carve the knife across my skin, and focus on the pain until everything else just kind of disappeared, only this time not forever. i would be better—only i wouldn’t. i wouldn’t be better. because self-harm does not make you better. because drinking poison for the 56th time does not make you better. because… i can’t change my body. but i can change how i treat it. but right now i just… i don’t know how to do that.


i just came down with a cold/fever thing, so being productive has been pretty hard, since all my body wants to do right now is spend the entire day flopped like a slug on the couch watching mindless tv or rereading my favourite books or taking a nap something, but somehow i managed to edit these poems! if you missed it, check out the new youtube video i just posted by clicking on the word here, i’m super proud of it.


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august 19th, 2019

go ahead. close my eyes. close my eyes, and lock me in the dark, and eliminate all variables. just make everything perfect, all right? make it all exactly like you wanted. make it so my eyes have this way of blending perfectly into the night. bend my emotions, and make me successful, all right? make me run a hundred. thousand. miles. and make me never get tired of this. and make me never want to cry because of this. make me perfect this time. and take advantage of my fleeting emotions, because i am not sure what i am, but i know i’m not all right. and i know it’s really fucking dark outside. and i’m tired of this, all right? i’m tired of being the one who’s always up past their limits but goddamnit, i have to write. and i’ll look back, straight through time, and i’ll feel my stomach clench up. and i’ll drown myself in sugar, and salt, and spice. and i’ll hate myself. which was exactly what i was trying to avoid. so go ahead. turn everything off for a second. leave me in the dark, and don’t tell me how to turn on the light. because the truth is… i don’t know how else to be all right.


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grown up

grown up(1).png


it’s just… sometimes, it just feels like i’ll only ever be worthwhile if i’m normal. and by normal, i mean perfect. and by perfect, i mean grown up. grown up like i can handle this myself grown up like grinding myself down to nothing and today is the kind of day where i hate myself but i hate myself less with coffee so therefore that has to mean that mental illness isn’t even a fucking thing. and that has to mean that you should just grow up, because everyone else has love. and why the fuck are you like this?  and just please stop and don’t feel like you’re drowning in other people’s emotions, because god we just have too many emotions. and coffee tastes like insomnia, and insomnia tastes like productivity, and productivity tastes like hope, and 1a.m. smells like solitude and solitude means no one can control me. which is ironic, given the fact that i am controlled by my anxiety. and maybe i’ve only ever told myself that this is all i’m worth.  late nights and treating my mind like a machine and it’s all ok as long as i can just pump out more poetry, and more stories, and more poetry. and it’s nearly midnight. and what i’m trying to say is i’m tired of chiselling myself to nothing and wondering why i feel empty all the time.


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on the days when it really feels like the world is ending

on the days when it really feels like the world is ending(1)


trigger warning: self-harm, suicidal thoughts

because today i had to take two ice-cold showers i felt so dizzy. and i’m still not entirely sure if it was because of the heat or because of my anxiety. and because yesterday i was up until 1a.m. imagining what it would feel like to cut myself open and laugh as the pain rips through me. and so tonight i lie awake, staring at the ceiling, and it’s fine when the lights are on but the second they go off everything slowly starts collapsing. because i just want to sleep. i just want to be ok. and i don’t know how long this will last. i don’t know if this is weeks or a day. i don’t know, and it just feels… so… heavy. and i don’t know how to handle the way the days stack together like dominoes because we train wrecks probably qualify as birds of a feather or something. and late at night, i like to go insane inside, collapsing a little more every night. and i have to be perfect, right? and i have to be brilliant, right? and i have to snap all the broken glass shards together and do it somehow without bleeding. somehow, without screaming. because today, i felt so nauseous i was about to pass out and maybe that isn’t really a stretch of the imagination anyway. and maybe i just don’t know what i’m doing. and maybe i don’t know where all my broken pieces are supposed to fit in this tired body; full of imperfections and i’m just so fucking tired of not knowing what’s even happening. and i’m sorry for all the times i’ve lied, okay? i’m sorry for all the times i fucked up and made mistakes and didn’t tell anyone that i wasn’t all right. i’m sorry for all of this mess, scattered around us. i’m sorry if i can’t fix it. i’m sorry if the world i live in is a fucking mess. i’m sorry if i’m walking into the lion’s den, kind of like an idiot. i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i’m not perfect.


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