my skin bruises constantly. i never remember where they come from. everything that opens skin takes weeks to fully heal, and typically ends up with a scar that never quite fades. my hair is all thin, i constantly have to babysit where it lands lest it get mangled if i ever lie down. my fingernails grow fast but break within a month, polish being mandatory if i want to keep them. i do. it all hurts, all of the time. my bones creak my muscles ache and can barely keep myself standing most of the time. even when i lie down, nothing rests where it should, like the structure of a person is lost within a sea of amorphous gel, bending to gravity above reason. i have to watch what i eat, or i become inflamed, blood pooling to every surface of my body leaving me tight, uncomfortable, bursting at my seams. it really hurts, all of the time. even the laziest days end with a busy mind staring at the ceiling, while my body tries to catch its breath, trying to recapture any ounce of energy i didnt have to begin with. i want to lie down with people i love, being held together by their arms but still crumbling under the weight of my own pressure, but i find myself recoiling away more and more, the pressure building, always growing.
i see people run. i see people a decade older than me walk and stand far longer than i've been able to since i was a teenager. the joy in ones eyes, at the aches well earned as opposed to those forced upon me. i see them stand, unfazed by the pressure pushing them down. standing for hours on end is cruel to every body, its something i would not wish upon anyone. standing for 30 minutes puts stars in my eyes, corners of my vision fading only able to see others do what i cannot, what i might never do again. im not in shape, i know that well enough. but im afraid i might never be able to change that. something held over my head, well meaning people trying to recommend me advice i would not be able to handle a quarter of, smiling and thanking them for the kind words and scorning the truth that i know even their most basic of regimens would leave me incapacitated for days. i cant even see their starting line on the horizon. it hurts so, so very much. i've removed nails before. seeing the nailbed snap and stick to the shards of keratin shamelessly removed, healing just enough to where i can try again. i used to stick thumb tacks into my body for fun, face thrown against bedframes, never again. even a slap can take me out.
im scared that toys this fragile arent as fun to play with, when you cant play rough. the only venues i can go to being those with seating, long breaks in museums, walks cut short, hikes out of the picture entirely. i listen to others, with an open ear. if they cant taunt me with these stories, i know thats cutting another game i can play from a very, very short list.
what happens when i need to run? when theres a threat. pity is what i live on , mercy is my bloodline. i live only on the good will of others. i might never be able to fend for myself and while its easy for something young, pretty, desired, what happens when i am older? when the same few games become dull, who will help me then? im delicate. every day i lose more than i gain. i am so afraid of the day where there is an ever encroaching threat i need to escape, and all i can do is sit down and wait for it to take me away.
theartofmadeline
gamechangershow
gummygunk
kianamaiart
izzy806
amandla
2087
vaporwave
