Reeling and Writhing
It started one day when I felt like heaven.
For just a bit, I felt like everyone loved me; nothing could go wrong,
I was the king of the world,
And it would all last forever.
But it was a lie;
A dangerous lie that hurt so much when broken
That it couldn’t be believed again.
So I brought myself back down.
I put up a wall to keep myself there.
But the world is growing under it
And it gets harder and harder to keep it there,
So the wall needs to be taller.
And soon, anything—no matter how infinitesimal—
That threatens the structure only builds it up.
And “you’re beautiful”, “you’re loved”, “you’re worth it”;
Just melts away when it touches the cement.
But they keep coming;
Firing at my dungeon like cannonballs,
Threatening to thrust me out into the world
Where I don’t know where I am or how to get back.
“I’m not beautiful” turns into “I’m a monster”;
“I’m not worth it” turns into “I’m a waste of life”.
One day, words aren’t enough,
And so it takes more.
It starts out as the lesser of two evils;
The pain is leagues better than accepting what I’m not.
The more it hurts,
The more I know that stopping will hurt more.
Finally, the wall has gotten so high
That I can’t see myself in it
And I’m nothing
But a shredded, bloody carcass.
And by then,
What’s the point?