my venting place

Though we still talk, I find every conversation feels like a desperate grasping at sand that keeps falling between my fingers.

I wish I still entertained you.

I wish I was worth remembering.

I wish we still had the sweetness of last June in our hands,

As I woke up at 5am to participate in a silly game just to spend more time with you.

I wish I appeared in your symbolisms, the markers of the important people in your life, like a grand gallery of loved ones

I wish you talked of me fondly still, and not in passing mention

I wish it did not hurt to count how many days it has been since you spoke to me last,

I wish I did not count at all.

I wish you'd call me all day as you do with everyone else,

I wish you'd invite me to anything at all.

I wish we still played games together,

As a team or in quiet as we played separately.

I wish we still had groggy nonsensical conversations as you rode the early train to work and I procrastinated sleep to talk to you longer.

I wish you'd text first.

I wish I was your first choice.

Perhaps it is a selfish wish,

Self-centered and self-serving,

who do I talk to?

who can I tell my most terrible secrets to?

I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine

you need me to be strong

I need me to be strong

when do I stop powering through, though?

when does pushing through the fog

become absolute blindness?

and how do I tell you I'm suffering,

not quite badly,

but suffering.

I promised I would stop when I got what I wanted.

but, now I'm here,

in limbo,

happier than before; too happy to be ill

but suffering; suffering too much to be better.

and there are no ears who listen,

who hear my soft spoken cries.

I tell you "haha, my brain is funny when I don't eat"

I tell you "I'm living on caffeine"

I tell you "I'm sleeping on the bathroom floor"

there's nothing else I can say

I'm begging you to look at me

how else do I show you how bad it hurts

you TOLD me to tell you when it HURTS

I'm trying I'm trying I'm trying I'm trying

This body is not mine.

I cannot live if nothing changes,"

I muttered with the tips of my fingers in grace over the curves I despised.

There he stood behind me,

Masculine and beautiful,

"You'll make it. I'll help you change quickly," he murmured to me,

Gently and persuasively.

"I need someone, anyone, to see how bad I'm hurting,

I cannot be heard with my frail voice,

I will die if no one sees me,"

I whimpered alone in the dark, unable to cry though I desperately needed to.

There he stood beside me,

An image of sickness,

Surely someone would notice this friend I invited,

"Someone will see. Your body is a temple. People will know the gods have died if it withers,"

He whispered, cold hands around my shoulders,

Softly and kindly.

"I need to succeed. I'm never, ever good enough. Please let me have something,"

I begged from my rotted temple, empty and unforgiving.

There he stood in front of me,

Showing me himself, a work of persistence and success,

"I know you've never been praised. Someone ought to say something this way,"

He smiled,

Encouraging and warm.

My body began to fail me,

No one blinked an eye,

My goals grew out of reach.

"Thank you for your help,

But I think I'll try something else."

I said, my courage gathered and mind made up.

"Well, I cannot convince you to stay. Even if you grow fat,

Even if no one cares about you anymore,

Even if you never succeed at anything...I cannot make you stay."

He sighed, not batting an eye.

I crawled back when the world began to hurt again.

I forgot the pain of him,

I enjoyed the freedom

now I'm out of control

please

please