i think of you. i pour the bottle. i think of you. crash like a bowling ball. every pin down except one, i think of you, bottle spins. it lands on you, i think of you, it lands and i am locked in the closet, i kiss you, the bowling ball sinks into the gutter. i think of you. every pin standing. i pour the bottle and nothing comes out, it lands on the empty space between you and him, i am strung from the coat hanger, i think of you. the bottle is heavy, the door locks, the pins are taken away, i don’t go bowling ever again, i think of you, i think of you, you kiss me back, i think of you, i pour the bottle and everything comes out, i turn away my face, i think of you, you take my face in your hands, i think of you, and my voice tumbles out, i think of you, but no one hears me scream, i think of you, the bottle is empty, i think of you i think of you i think of you
yeah, mama, the disease lives right here in the brain, right behind my eyes, the ones that look like daddy’s, yeah, look closer and don’t be fooled, i got soft eyes and long eyelashes and a darkness right behind there, and yeah, mama, the boys were right: the irises of my eyes look like bullet wounds. they can’t look too long, so they bury their face in my neck or in the bed, but they can’t look straight into my eyes, nah, they say a war took place here, and like a memorial, this place is for silence and bouquets and a quick glance, but it ain’t for staying. mama, the boys were right. they can see the war in me from a few miles down the road, say they can hear the gunfire in my breathing, that i’ve got a grave in my throat. but boys don’t treat me like a soldier, like someone who lost their life for something bigger, no they treat me like someone without a say in my hurt. like a soldier’s wife, like a civilian casualty, like the kind of war you see in car accidents. they say i’m the kinda person where you can’t see the war coming. and mama, mama, this is why boys don’t look at me, why they stay short, why they leave my bedroom in the morning with their tongues in sailor’s knots, why they never call. they say the darkness in me makes them soul sick, and they can’t find the medicine in me to bring them out of it. and, mama, i think i believe them, mama, i think the war is getting closer, mama, i can’t look in the mirror and this body is getting thinner
“Depression is such a cruel punishment. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern. Just the slow erosion of self, as insidious as any cancer. And like cancer, it is essentially a solitary experience. A room in hell with only your name on the door.”—Martha Manning - Undercurrents (via girlsgotafacelikemurder)
imagine a room on fire with vodka bottles and kleenex everywhere. with the space jam theme song playing in the distance. congratulations. you’ve stumbled upon the physical manifestation of my academic career
to doc, pt 2 (tw: disordered eating, body image issues)
doc tells me to step on the scale. “gotta make sure the medication isn’t messing with your weight, you know,” he says, and i know. but i’m not worried about the medication. i’m worried about how much space i can take up before it’s too much. and everyone says i’m the skinniest girl around, yeah, they say my thigh gap is the holy grail of body image, collarbones as slick as knives, a stomach as flat as the sea. i got cheekbones that could kill, yeah, i hear you, and i hope they kill as i step up on that black box, as he tinkers with the numbers. and, goddamn, the number looks at me like the frownin’ face of god sayin’ that he could smell the hell in me a mile away, and how the tiffany pearly gates weep as i walk away. he tells me to step off, put back on the coat, the boots, the pounds. i walk out of the clinic wanting to shrink and shrink, hoping god gave me that 100% cotton body you see in commercials, but i am afraid it’s going nowhere, this body, it ain’t receding. “looks like you’re healthy and in the range you should be,” he says. but doc, i don’t care what the medicine does to my insides. i’m afraid i’ll run out of weight to lose. and that i think this, doc, every morning, that’s what really gets me the most.