one
two
three
four
stop, please
i can’t breathe
angry red crescent moons
in my palms
deep breaths
it’s okay, i’m okay now
eyes shut tightly
stop seeing
stop remembering that night
stop stop stop
the world moves so slowly
unfeeling
hush now
the quiet after the storm
lingers
on and on
when will it end?
him: take off your shirt
me: I, um, I don’t think–
him: c’mon baby, I know you want to feel good
me: I don’t know if I–
him: I’ll take it off for you
I have lost so much of myself in past relationships
so many countless hours of calls that I didn’t want to answer
endless murmurs of no’s that end up becoming maybes and then yeses
it wasn’t his fault that I didn’t want to do anything
wasn’t his fault that I was incapable of saying no
that I couldn’t say no
because I wanted it to be good
I wanted to be good
I still get flashbacks from times I would rather not remember
I still ask myself every day why I did those things
why I said those things when I wanted to cry
why I let him take off my shirt and unhook my bra
why I said it was okay, keep going, it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt
but it wasn’t okay, I wanted to stop, and it did hurt
did I really want to be loved that badly?
to have ruined all the parts with dignity left in me?
was I incapable of loving myself?
even now, I still struggle to say no when I don’t want to do something
and I’m slowly learning that saying no doesn’t make me weak
it doesn’t make me any less of a person
saying no makes me strong
because it means that I am choosing myself
I am choosing to love myself
I’m scared of ghosts that make lights flicker and floorboards that creak. I’m scared of failing to make my parents proud of me. I’m scared of running out of time. That no matter what I do, it won’t be enough because I will never be enough. I’m scared that people won’t like me because I’m not interesting enough. I’m scared of spiders. Big, hairy spiders. I’m scared that no one will ever truly understand how I’m feeling because I don’t say anything. I’m scared that no one will try to know me. I’m scared of all the boys men on the streets when I walk home alone at 2AM. I’m scared that as the years go by, I’m losing more and more of myself and eventually I will have nothing left. I’m scared of how deep I can sink. I’m scared of all the relapses and setbacks that will inevitably happen. I’m scared of dying. I don’t know where I will go. I’m scared of childbirth. I’m scared of the disappointment I feel when I wake up in the morning and realize that I am still alive. I’m scared of how well I can fake a smile to make people believe that I am okay. I’m scared of how much people do not know about me. I am scared of falling in love because of all the boys who have used me and ripped me up into teeny tiny pieces. I’m scared that people will leave me. Even though it’s happened a thousand times over and over. I’m scared that I will never be able to love anyone. I’m scared that no one will ever love me. I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared of myself and what I am capable of doing.
liquid guilt 