At the age of 13 I was asking for a nose job,
Rhinoplasty will fix me.
I was starving myself,
Feeling over my bones and smiling when they stuck out,
A glimmer of perfection.
All my friends were taken but the closest I got was a guy asking for pics when he was horny,
And then never speaking to me again,
The closest I got was a hug when I was 12,
And then a couple guys who didn’t really appreciate me in my dm,
The closest I really got was posting pics of my ass for validation,
Because of the jealousy I felt for how my friends managed to be in a healthy relationship,
and then there was me who couldn’t handle a day alone.
I was told I was ugly, fat, and was never gonna get laid,
By guys who slid in my dms and asked if I was okay,
They didn’t care,
They just wanted a pic without my face that they could jack off to at 2am,
Told that I shouldn’t eat so much and go back to starving,
I looked better when I was anyway.
My own body,
Once innocent and pure,
Told my hands to cut it up,
As if proving to myself I deserved it,
As if proving that that pain was what I needed,
And then down – as if wishing it would eventually cut the very life out of me,
And I wouldn’t feel pain anymore.
Pain is not beauty,
Pain is not poetry,
This isn’t beautiful work,
This is sadness on paper,
Blood as ink,
The very shadow of my life written down for the world to see,
This is crying for help but everyone looks at it like a feature in an art gallery.
This is anonymous pain – anonymous admitting to the fact that the long term seems impossible.
- – unknown.