I need to breathe. I can’t breathe. Don’t you understand? I can’t fucking breathe. How? Where? Why? Who? What?

I don’t understand either.

I am drowning. I need to push it all down. I need to eat. I need to starve. I need to drink. I need to cut – to see blood dripping down my arms in beautiful rivers. To watch my skin open up and see the flesh underneath. I need to take too many pills. To fuck up my body. To skate near the edge. I need to take too few pills. To take my body back. To reclaim what’s mine, but also to knowingly fuck it all up.

I need to run away and be alone. To curl up in a corner and cry forever, until all my tears are cried. Until they are no more, and I am free to die.

I need to run to someone. To be held in their arms. To be told it will be okay. To be told it is alright. To be told I am good enough. To be told I am not defective. I am not an error, a mistake, misfit, alco, mentally ill, bow-legged, heart-diseased, personality-disordered, unemployable, unlovable, fat, disgusting, freak, different than everyone, loud-mouthed, unable to stop, to shut up, slut, idiot, piece of shit, any name you can think of, fill in the blank.

When will it ever stop? I’ve had enough. I’m not allowed to have enough. I have three beings I created. They are amazing. They deserve more than this. More than me. But there is no such thing as more than me for them. And so for them I must stay. I cannot resent them. This is my doing. I chose to have children. I love them, they love me. They need me. It is a simple equation. Really the only simple equation in my life. The only certainty.

And so I will take that and run with it. I will stay in pain. Here in pain until my time comes naturally. And I can heave my final breath as a massive sigh of relief.

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