Those Words Those Frames

“If you are feeling so bad that you don’t know if you can trust yourself to not end up staying with abusive family, or making choices that are not in the best interest of your safety, I would recommend not going “home”. I hope you are able to evaluate that honestly for yourself.” 

Mom, I remember the kind quotes you told me.

Now I will show your generativity and share them, since you cannot anymore.

My heart is forever broken, but from it’s cracks I will spread the love you gave me out to rest of the world.

I will use this depth of agony from losing you to create a better world, in your essence.

WELCOME, WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO THE PLACE OF RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS!

...To the psych ward

Here we will accept you for who you are! We will never dead name you. We will use all of your actual pronouns, no matter your gender expression!

Here at the psych ward, we are inclusive of all races, genders and sexualities. 

We are your refuge!!!

If ever something is wrong or you feel as though you’ve been wronged based on your identity, just fill out of matter of record and we will address the matter in a quick, professional and appropriate way. We take our matter of records very seriously by glancing at them and then throwing them in the trash because the cisgender and heterosexual, or normal person, just simply didn’t know better. Why should we address that or try to educate the normal person? The normal person's feelings and words are always valid. 

We definitely acknowledge and are well educated on different gender identities and sexualities. The terms asexual and non-binary mean the same thing... right?

Asexuals are unhealthy in that they won’t have sex. Having sex is a natural, healthy and necessary part of life in order for your treatment to progress here. 

We announced and clapped that pride month started yesterday!! Then we continued to give an award for the non-binary for being the client of the month. This incredible feat is such a step forward in how progressive we are. We even used her pronouns and said “She did an amazing job moving forward in her recovery. She should be proud of herself for all the hard work she has done”. We were so considerate in using her pronouns of she/her, even though she’s said multiple times that her pronouns are they/them. 

Another thing we take into great consideration is the well being of transgenders. It will be ensured that you will be isolated by everyone in the community, since no one wants to live with a tranny. To enforce this, we ask every client who needs a bed, “Would you be OK living with a transgender?”

WELCOME, WELCOME! 

I am worthy.

I am unworthy.

Her laugh

Her kindness

Her beauty

Her wisdom

All of these I will never see again

I can imagine her being but it’s fading away

I don’t want to forget her smile

How do I maintain normalcy?

Through my clothes...

Baggy shirts that cover my gigantic stomach

Long sleeves to cover the endless lines of scars

Pants so that no one has to see my stretch marked thighs 

I’m stuck in this disgusting body, I wish I was not

When I stare into the mirror I see back someone who is not actually me

My soul is not my body

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing

It feels like someone is pointing a gun at my head, shouting at me to drive when I’ve never driven a day I’m my life

I’m immensely confused and I feel pressure to do something that I don’t know what it means

Having a romantic relationship when you have PTSD related to sexual trauma is what I’m discussing

The issue is that I’ve never actually experienced a loving relationship with someone in regards to sex

When a person I’m attracted to asks me any questions, I don’t know if what they’re asking is going too far and what isn’t because I’ve only experienced the worst

My brain lies to me and makes it impossible to build trust with a man, I think that they’re bound to hurt me

I don’t know what to do, I don’t know the difference between right and wrong in relationships, I wouldn’t even recognize if I was being used

I’m sitting here, alone, typing

I’m breathing, at least I think I am

I can’t seem to recognize what is me or what is just this meat sack that this concept of “me” is stuck in

Are these the times I’ll wish for, when I’m laying in a hospital bed or will it have worked and I’ll be dead?

I don’t know if I should keep trying.

Is my brain lying or is reality truly this bad?

If I take take the pills will I soon after realize that I want to live?

I want to buckle down and persevere but it’s so exhausting, I don’t have the energy to.

The ripping of flesh

as the stainless steel edge caresses my begging skin

I don’t even care that the liquid crimson seeps out immensely to the point it makes a puddle

Its raw metallic scent fills the air

The way my blood vividly glistens is captivating and grounding

My brain is on a high that’s difficult to explain