fighting to make the mirror happy

I’m astounded by the privilege of people who disdainfully look at me at say, “I don’t like relying on pills.”

Don’t leave me alone at night with my thoughts.

I want to talk about what happened without mentioning how much it hurt. There has to be a way. To care for the wounds without reopening them. To name the pain without inviting it back into me.

You overrate my capacity for love. I don’t possess half the warmth of nature you believe me to have. An unprotected childhood in a cold world has beaten gentleness out of me.

The cure for anything is salt water. Sweat, tears or the ocean.

I cry at everything. Simply to spite myself and embarass myself.

Do not mock a pain that you haven’t endured.