#hannahceline

I'm sitting here with no pants on

The crosses I carved in my skin are stinging at me

I eat my bowl of food

I'm not doing it nicely

I'm not doing it politely

I'm shoving the potatoes and meat in my mouth

Feeling like the gross fuck up I have felt I have been

Carving into the pork like it could be my thigh, I wish I could go that hard

I'm too scared

I eat and eat cause I'm a fat pig

A fat pig who can't reach the pills

No one wants a fat pig

the promise of life

the promise that I held with honor

I was so beyond excited

the promise of future

that at least, when the demons came to run amok, I was safe in my home with you

the home we could afford

now you're home, and I am back where I started. Shaking, crying, in a worse position than before.

no job, no income, no way out.

Would you be able to tell when I was dying

The all seeing eye into my room

Would you think I was sleeping

Would you think I was crying

.

You should know I don't sleep with the lights on You should know I don't lay that way to sleep You should know I don't not say anything for the entire night

.

My room is clean, it's been a while The foam by my mouth you can't see all that clearly

Your fear disgusts me Hide behind the screen, you always have.

You've given me my own 7 years of tribulation. How dare you? Private? Delete all the videos when proof that you're wrong comes up.

Just a lot of talk until lawyers come out?

Does my presence bother you? Does my breathing get in your way? To hop in a train to belittle me, so quickly.

Interesting. That cable car is full.

Jesus, when you were up there

did you feel every time I did it?

did you feel my blood trickle down your arm

did you feel the darkness

did you hear the Ethel Cain mock you?

i'm not sure I wasn't there but would I have been cheering with the Romans?

would I be weeping with Mary?

are you real?

you're real.

can you sit with me.

for a minute

For I am 20, 13 years younger than you were when you were crucified.

I sit here in my bra and underwear. I don't think this is ever felt right a day in my life. I try different clothes. I try different silhouettes less clothes more clothes a turtleneck a bra, sports bra, pasties lace underwear boy shorts thongs I feel good when I have a little bit more clothes on, but when I'm my absolute sexiest as some people would say, I feel the worst. I'm cold. I'm aware of my body aware of the heartbeat that keeps me alive. I'm aware of every single spot I've touched incorrectly. I'm aware of the fingers that I've gone inside me. I'm aware of the mouths that have been on top of me. I'm aware of the hugs I've been given. I've been aware of the hugs. I've given I'm aware of the dirty looks I've given. I'm aware of the clothes. I'm aware of the feeling of the covers. I'm aware of every time I told my mother no, I'm aware of every time I've told my father no, I am aware of every time I've looked at my God in the face and told him no there's something so debilitating about seeing your own body in its natural state. Something we used to not mind we didn't care at one point before she ate that fruit we didn't care what we looked like. We didn't care there was no sin there was no pain. The fruit was taken now I look at my body and I think of the child I might have in the future I think of the hands that might grace me when I'm married I think of the 2000 cuts I've given myself because I felt disgusting.

I think of the apple cider I threw back up and it burned my throat on its way. I think of the countless stomach issues I've given myself due to the attempts with ibuprofen. My body is not a temple anymore. My mother told me to stop hurting it.

It is now gone to a point where it is an etched cave painting where you don't know if it's clay or blood you're riding with and these people come to look and they like it. They come to look and they appreciate the art and they analyze it but all you want them to know is is there is pain they come up to you when they ask how are you doing? We saw that video you look at them and you say you're good better or you're doing fine.

Why do you get in the way of your own help? All you think about is self harm sex the end of the world you put yourself in a worse position you are afraid of meeting your maker yet you keep doing what he told you not to do. You're afraid of meeting your maker yet. You've tried to kill yourself. You're a hypocrite. I don't understand you as much as I try to anytime I look at your body. I see the comments people make "Cherish that body" "Hannah you have an hourglass" I see the hand that touched you in seventh grade. I see the boys that laughed at you. I see the hugs that your teachers gave you. I see the cuddles that your boyfriend gave you when you regress into a four-year-old I see you hiding behind the stairs watching your parents fight wondering what's going on I see you pick up that blade for the first time not knowing that that was going to cause years of slavery. I watched it happen and I didn't say anything I wanted you to experience and live life your deeper now they say you think better you're more mature than others I don't want to be more mature than others the more mature you are I fear the worst it hurts and the harder it is why couldn't I be like the girls that call me names so why couldn't I be like them? They're happy in their sin. why do I sin and I don't even get to be happy about it. I hate my naked body. I've tried to love it several times.