i thought that maybe it would go away, that it was just yesterday,
because the stab was fresh.
i've fallen ten steps back.
i woke up multiple times having a memory, thinking
'oh every time i trust i make a mistake, i hurt myself'. it's not clotting-
it's bleeding-
i'm tearing it open and i can see through the layers of skin and fat that the bone is too far away.
whenever i've been tempted to eat- the only way i really know how- i've thought weird, weird, what the fuck are you doing?, and like my insides were collapsing.
you know, everything is a conflict- and i don't push myself hard enough, long enough to get anywhere where i'll be happy.
indulgences keep me from the goal.
i keep myself from contentment as perpetual insufficiency.
conflict:
one snide remark and i'm back to where i started.
something tells me i was headed there anyway.
i want to get there faster and faster and FASTER and FASTERAND FASTER AND FASTERANDFASTERANDFASTER
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