Peel off my skin and make me feel your love

I feel so desperately bad. So desperately alone. So desperately lonely. It’s not a steady pulsating pain, it’s gasping for air and screaming. I’M ALL ALONE! I feel like no matter what words I use I can never convey what I’m feeling. I’m just so hopeless.

I need someone to help me, to hold me, to heal me. But that doesn’t work now does it? No, because my body, my mind and my heart rejects every ray of light, and turns away all the open arms. I’m wondering if I’m broken! I think I’m broken. And you can’t hear me choking on all of this, on this night, on this life. Fuck. It hurts so bad!

I think the only way for me to feel close to someone, connected to the world, would be if they sliced me open and reached in and grabbed my heart. “Hush, darling, you’re not alone.” Maybe not even then.

I’m gonna say it, what we dread saying because we don’t wanna offend, and because we don’t wanna minimize someone else’s pain: I wish I had been raped and beaten instead. I would have known it all would soon be over, and I would’ve had a safe haven somewhere else and I wouldn’t question whether or not what was done to me was wrong. Instead I’ve lived for two decades believing I deserved it all.

(Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m sure someone would rather have what I’ve had instead. But fact is we don’t know how we would’ve reacted to the other, but it’s still easy to think “if only”. And many end up where I am because of rape and abuse too, I guess the best thing would be to have happy things instead. But yeah, whatever, I think we all think like that once in a while. We image having the ailments we don’t have as better than the one we do have.)

And he doesn’t even know he ruined my life.

It hurts. So. Bad.

The relief

It’s there when you put the blade to your skin. As you drag it through the skin cells, and create a wound. As the blood spills. But then it’s gone. Within the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

It’s there when you throw up your dinner. As you’re hurling in your bathroom. As tears gather in your eyes. But then it’s gone.You catch your breath, brush your teeth, and it’s gone. 

It’s there when you tell him to do whatever he pleases with you. As you take your clothes off, and lie down to be used. As you compromise yourself and allow someone to treat you as if you’re worthless, because that’s what you are. But then it’s gone. He gets his release and then he caresses your chin as if you’re valuable, like it was all a game. He kisses your forehead and tells you you’re beautiful, and it’s gone.

It’s there when he throws the punch. As you trace your fingers along your jaw, to your lips, and you lift the hand in front of you, and you see there’s blood on it. As you turn the other cheek and get hit again. As the dizziness embraces you and it’s hard to stand on your feet. But then it’s gone. He gasps and is by your side in a stride. He apologizes under his breath and begs for forgiveness, and it’s gone.

It’s there when you stub a cigarette on your hip. As you watch your bruises in the mirror. As your empty nail beds brush against your covers. But then it’s gone. It only lasts a moment, and then the moment’s gone.

Relief, sweet relief, it won’t really stay, until I’m dead.