Dear... Anyone Who Will Listen
Do you ever feel like you don’t belong in your own skin?
Because sometimes I am sitting in class or in my room and then it’s like a cloak is dropped over me. Everything is disturbed and I feel the need to rip my skin off. I’ll itch and scratch for days and the cloak stays. Then the itch goes away and makes its way inside me. Sneaking into the holes in my face and the open wounds left on my body. It sits there for weeks. It’s dark and empty. It’s hollow and it’s solid. It’s heavy. It’s a pit. It consumes me. This is the period where I go away for a while. You can’t try to talk to me, I wasn’t listening. You can’t get me to go out, I can’t move.
It’s heartbreaking, really. Because I can still see. It’s like the only thing not in a cloud is my eyes. I see the pain I’m causing. I see the hurt in the eyes on the other side. But I also see the pain in my body reflected. The mirror. I can’t control it. I have no control over myself. I tear apart the things in front of me.
The weeks that follow are me putting it all back together. I stick the bandaids on and kiss the wounds. But that’s temporary. And then it all restarts.
So really, am I the one hurting more or are the people I’m causing pain to hurting more? I’m mean. This is a mean thing to do. Why do I keep doing this? Why can’t I stop. God why can’t it stop.