trigger warning: self-harm, general heavy and potentially triggering content

i. self-destruction is the only worthwhile thing about me. so i’ll smile wide as i tear myself apart, and then take a selfie. because it’s cute, right? totally.

and my past rolls out behind me. and the future looms before me, and someone say something please tell me i’m not  making this up, because everywhere i look all i can see is the world ending–

ii. it’s been a while. and the self-harm marks are finally fading. which should be a good thing. but even the idea of not having physical validation of the fact that i am sick is terrifying. 

the idea of being better is terrifying. because i’ve never really seen myself without this anxiety, like the cat who came back constantly trailing behind me. 

iii. and it hurts. and it hurts. and it hurts. but it also leaves. and i know who i am.  i know who i want to be.

i am the first step forward. i am a shaking hand, extended toward yours. i am thunder, and rain, and lightning, and words like a snowstorm. 

and i am not anxiety. i was never anxiety. or any of the other shit you liked to tell me. i’m me. i always have been, and i always will be. and you can try. but i don’t think you’ll ever be able to take that away from me. 

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