on drama




Growing up I was the least dramatic. Silent, not speaking. Not expressing pain in medical procedures, learning to deny all physical pain altogether to others and then to myself. Denying wants and needs. Not expressing emotions, thoughts, feelings to anyone and then diminishing them to myself, discounting, telling them to shut up, that they weren't important, werent even real. Learning never to complain or bother or exist. 

Cutting when I was in the unbearable emotional pain I told myself I had no reason to feel, a cut being a reason something was wrong, something to point to. Bandage and fix. Proof of something. No one could know.

Then people knew and I got horrible reactions from medical professionals but no reaction from my family. I was bad for doing it and crazy and deeply ashamed of hurting myself. I was fucked up. Then I was screaming with it, more and more extreme and outrageous and reckless attacks on myself but then witnesses to hurt and scare to share my horror my death my destruction and whatever was destroying me murdering me. No one could take it no one could handle it or bear it. I painted the walls with my blood when my artery spurted the life out of me. I finger-painted like a delinquint kindergartener the wall on my bathroom another time on purpose when I was enraged with my therapist Jason that he didn't care about me, that he was on a trip with his beloved niece. I painted in my blood the word "unloveable" and took a picture and sent it to him. I literally carved "FUCK YOU" into the flesh down my leg and sent that to him too. I cut in his office bathroom. I bled on his couch. I was frantic desperate hysterical screeching with my blood my body. This is my body, take this all of you and eat of it. This is my blood, take this all of you and drink from it which will be poured out for you for the forgiveness of sins do this in memory of me.
Will anyone remember what happened remember me and stop forgetting?

LEAVE I DARE YOU!
Or LEAVE FIRST.

I stopped containing, i could no longer. I lost it, I raged and yelled and fought with everyone everywhere every chance I could. I attacked. Feel the chaos I feel, feel the annihilation I experienced and am still feeling I DARE YOU I'll annihilate you too. All life and death emergency 911 calls sutures stains ravaging ICU room. Starving myself hollow sharp bone edges ribcage like armor hip bones knives ILL MAKE YOU LOOK ILL FORCE YOU. That's still there.


Fighting with Dr. V, storming out screaming FUCK YOU I HATE YOU. Swallowing bottles of pills. Passing out. Ambulances. Cutting my face. 

 SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING/YOU CANT DO ANYTHING ILL MAKE YOU WATCH. 

The PLEASE SOMEONE STOP ME. Not enough containment on earth existing to console me or save me. HELP ME PLEASE but try to and I won't allow it because I cant, I can't. 

Hospital units losing control of myself like I was set free and set on fire finding anything I could smashing soap dispensers off the wall and taking the shards to slice my arms. Sneaking in razorblades in library book jackets.

Grabbed by security guards and kicking them, flailing til they locked their hands on every limb as i twisted and strapped them all down even my head. Screaming at them FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING ANIMALS LET ME GO!!!!!! Bruised wrists from the straps digging in that I refused to stop fighting against.


Constant chaos danger. Stealing in stores, compulsion, thrill. Never having needed but now taking, taking. Then taken to court.
Purging, fingers rammed down throat, rejecting, pushing out, emptying desperately. 

I'm desperate still. I've gotten quieter. I feel more dead in deeper ways suffocating but I'm nicer and am more careful how I treat people but I'm more invisible. My pain not painted everywhere and attacking the innocent and with that I have lost more life and spark and of myself. I've retreated, my ugly is more palateable and I'm more engulfed in guilt and shame, suffocating. I am more quiet in my dying and I am more tired fetal position on my bed and I don't flail and scream and people praise the difference in how I handle things and it makes me so fucking sad.."If you are silent about your pain they will kill you and say you enjoyed it."






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