The week passes by with my running thought on how I'm not enough.

Being behind on things I didn't even know I was behind on. Trying to stay ahead of the current, before the hurricane strikes. I pack my supplies and save them under the floorboards, knowing damn well that not only the hurricane is here, but I'm being carried away by the winds.

I'm filling up the hole in my chest that conversations with my mother has left me.
I want to fill it with booze, with sex, with laughter with my friends, running, crying.
I feel the hollowness and try to suck away the venom. Spit it into my coffee thermos and leave it for three days, unwashed inside of my school backpack.

I want to get drunk and rowdy, I want to bite and scream, I want to fuck a man's brains out and have him beg me for more.

I want the naughty, the rough, I want my hair pulled and my body kissed. I'm angry and sad and anxious, I want the distraction. I want to run for 10 miles and cry halfway. 

I am sick. Sick of the fucking same cycle that brings me down everytime.

My therapist wants to send me to the psychiatrist, she wants me to get medicated and I'm terrified of losing myself, the only fucking thing that stays the same is my talking to myself like this.

Getting lost

under the weight of your body
the salt of your sweat
and the taste of your loving
heals me of more than one ache
of those I carry around
in the little pocket of my mind.

Tell me, lover,
do you heal your heart
of doubts and worries
when I hold you close
and whisper that I'm yours?

Do you see us belonging
only to each other
because and despite
our little games of fire?

Home is where the heart is
and the only place I couldn't stand
to ever be without you.

 

I am almighty.
Powerful.
Independent.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I can do it. Let me do it.
I can reach the highest shelves.
I can run marathons.
I can make, work, be, change,
reinvent, write,
take care, raise, plant,
flourish, water, walk,
cook, create, design,
repurpose, plan, achieve.

I can crash down.
I can see myself collapsing.
Like a house of cards, like a line of dominoes.
I can do it.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I can cry and shake and shiver.
I can stop my breath and not control it.
I can lose my bearings and my state of mind.
For some seconds... maybe minutes 
that feel like hours. 

I can shut my eyes so hard that
little blood vessels burst
and I look like Eren Jaeger after leaving
his titan body.

My anxiety can kind of feel like living inside a titan body
If I think about it enough.

I can do it.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I don't ask to be held.
To be reasured.
To be taken out of the circumstance.
I don't ask for anyone
to come and save me from 
this hell of a mind I inhabit.

I can do it.
I don't need help.
I don't ask for it.

I can do it, I swear.
I just need some room to breathe.
To hold myself.
To reasure myself.
Take myself out of the circumstance.

I need to be able.
I need to not ask for help.
I won't ask for it.

What if I really need it,
and they let me down.