My ankle locks in a tight ring and it feels like gravity is weighing me down and the pain burns through my body like wildfire and it never ends and I just want to cry and why, why, why and you say you’ll love me through it.
I kind of want to die and I don’t know why and the world is heavy and cold and cruel and the streets look inviting and I want to run far, far, far away to anywhere at all where I don’t try to count cars and bridges and you say you’ll love me through it.
I look in the mirror and hate everything and my face is too red and my legs are too withered and my breasts are too small and I find myself looking at some model from Peru and her skin is so clear and her legs are so toned and her breasts are so big and I want to cry, cry, cry and you say you’ll love me through it.
I walk through the streets and my body feels like a New York winter and I’m limping like an injured deer and my legs are frozen and my nose is frozen and my entire being is frozen and everything is numb, numb, numb and I stumble around like a drunken sailor and you say you’ll love me through it.
My heart races and my pulse thumps in my wrists and my mind is hazy and frantic and tired and I can’t remember how to survive and breathing doesn’t help and I seriously question why the heck my meds aren’t working and I wonder if therapy actually does anything and it hurts, hurts, hurts to live without answers and you say you’ll love me through it.
I tell you that I don’t deserve love and I don’t deserve you because I have more baggage than an airport and my mind is foggy and my body is sore and I look nothing like that Peruvian model and how, how, how could you love me and you hug me and kiss me and cuddle me and bring me flowers as if I’m the only woman who exists and you prove that you’ll always love me through it.