My dear body,

You are my home, my wife, my life.

The mistress that sleeps in me too,
Will someday go with all her plights.

Her words of insanity, and her thoughts
that hate on you, my home, my wife, my life

Will come and go till I find it in me to no longer need
That mistress that sleeps

She is cunning and evil

Telling me my body is a beautiful as a crack house
Telling me I am not womanly enough because of my size
Telling me I do not deserve to eat
Telling me to punch myself
She is cunning and evil

She is the mistress that sleeps so I can be the wife that won’t second guess what she says

~

My dear bones
They have caused me no trouble

My eyes
They are mine

My skin
Soft Soft Soft they say

My nose
Perfect
Never Changed
Always Stayed With Me

My scars
Protect the cells that could have killed me

My back
I was embarrassed of you
Now I flex you in the mirror

~

My dear body––with all it’s dots and marks and lines and wrinkles and hair––you have stayed with me and hung on even when I hit you or made you bleed or made you bruise

You heal me even when I do not want you too

My dear brain is trying every damn day to erase the bad thoughts and race to the good ones; my damn brain deserves an award; my damn body deserves an award

Dear body: you are more of a friend to me, than I have been to you. Thank you.

Dear Teenage Self,

You have a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Yes, you can only see a little part of it. Yes, you have to go to the corner of the window to see. But, yes, you have a view of the Brooklyn Bridge! You made it to New York City; you made it across the country.

College has been more up and down than that roller coaster you rode in Las Vegas on your 15th birthday, but it has been the best years of your life. Unlike yourself now, you can finally talk to boys without getting red in the face, and unlike your fear of never making guy friends, now most of your friends are guys. You love them all. You have cried on their shoulders; they have cried on yours.

College you even has a boyfriend. He is nothing like how you expected. He is tall, rocks a beard, eyes prettier than emeralds, and not Christian. The letter you wrote to your future husband when you were about to go to college could not have been more wrong. You wrote that you knew nothing about your future husband except for the fact that he will love God. Fickle irony, God. This time though, I am grateful for it.

Your boyfriend treats you how God would want him too. He is beyond patient and makes you believe in love more and more each day. He is someone I never thought I would deserve.

Also, dear pubescent me, you may think you’re going through high school right now, but all the pubescent phases you’re supposed to have––dating, dealing with secret insecurities, drinking, parties, etc––you are going through now. You’re a late bloomer for the stereotypical adolescent horrors and ecstasies. But, don’t worry, all that studying and staying home you are doing right now––however excessive it is––pays off in the end.

Oh yeah, by the way, your dream of studying abroad in Spain, it’s happening this fall. Oh yeah, and your mom believes in love again. She’s happier than ever. Oh yeah, and your best friend––no surprise there––you are still soulmates with her. She’s still your north star.

Best of all, every birthday you no longer think well, at least I know it won’t say “whatever age I just passed” on my tombstone. I’m in control of my thoughts that once made me believe I wouldn’t let myself get to 19 or 20, but, here I am, 19, and about to turn 20 in a few weeks.

Teenage self, I want to say thank you for holding on. Thank you for reaching out to get help, thank you for putting yourself first when you didn’t even see yourself as worthy enough to be here, thank you for looking forward to your future self. I do not look down on you; rather, I am on my knees thanking you for walking even when your legs were numb and breathing even when you had to grab the air yourself and make it go down.

You made me who I am; I will make us proud.

the two holes in my face
where my eyes used to be
have begun to spread ––
my remaining soul begins to leak
and I start to smell the reek.

what reeks I cannot have;
what feels I do not own;
what sings I cannot reach;
i am not my own.

it smells of burnt lust and old fuzz
i start to cough but nothing evades
there’s nothing left of me to free
there’s nothing left of me that’s me.

//

the clock turns twelve
i have my eye drops that I no longer need;
so the eye drops, they seem to fall asleep
the mirror reflects no light; no life
the shower shivers; it hates itself
the tv flickers; a bright baby blue
(or maybe crimson red)

i see the Sea in the hue
or do I see my eyes?
(they used to be bright baby blue too)

//

this dessert you feed me
oh how it eats me;
not I, that eats it
–– oh no, not I ––
–– oh no, I wouldn’t dare––
it steals the nourishment I have
it takes
and takes and takes and takes
(this Desert is trapping)
there is wind in my soul
and this fine slender sand makes me cough;
but still, I try to eat it.
it’s the only thing I have.
(this Desert is trapping)

you hold my life as an hourglass with slender sand.
your white knuckles withered, strangling my glass
(trapping my Desert)
so
there is no me;
there is no time that is mine
(time isn’t yours, but you hold it still)
(sight isn’t either, but you carry mine still).

//

Oh look!
The Sea sees me; and I see it too
The lighthouse blinds me; I fall.
The esoteric night sky that they call the Sea
Oh how it eats me!
It’s royal blue encases all my crevasses
While the whales feed me to the plankton
I am not what is not me;
But I am just as much food, as food is me.

Oh, but no!
I have been eaten, but have given nothing;
My life as a sacrifice
Is like a lamb without meat;
My bones are brittle,
My heartbeat weak,
But my diaphragm that’s ripped out,
It is still singing!

Oh, It starts raining!
What a wonderful sight to see
The rain joins the water; so the rain joins me
Oh new life!
Oh how bright!

The rain seeps through, I am renewed!
The two holes in my face have been filled by the
Sand of the Sea
tears of God
And the resilience of
Me.

//

I didn’t find my eyes;
The Earth made another pair for me.

I didn’t get my time;
I made time get me.

I didn’t reject the food, but ate it;
As food will no longer eat me.

//

my bones form together;
My flesh is flesh no more;
my skin finally breathes;
My brain is back in place;
my back is back up right;

Oh what a wonderful day;
oh what a wonderful night!

oh how the clouds blessed me

this new year.