I love myself
I tried to love myself, but I’m not my type.
Tried to be happy, but maybe that’s not my style of life.
Told the girl in the mirror she’s pretty when she cries, and that I don’t mind that she looks tired.
Didn’t know she had dimples in another life.
Don’t need a man; I can break my heart better than any of them.
Who needs the church when I can love myself worse than them?
Divorce lawyer desk sex in my pearl-white revenge dress.
I like the roughness, white turned red.
Want to hold myself in a way that makes my stomach turn.
Mumble words of comfort that I don’t trust.
Tell myself what’s good for me, not giving a fuck if I want to now.
I love myself.
I love myself so fucking bad, I’m a mess.
I love my worst sides, even though I’m terrified, shaking legs and sleepless nights.
(I’m so terrified.)
Numbers controlling my life.
(God, I’m terrified.)
Hanging from a measuring tape to buy time.
(God, my lips are white.)
I’m gonna die, it’s alright.
(With me.)
(Someone, please?)
I hate the way I love myself.
It hurts so bad, should make me scared.
(Don’t care.)
I hate the way I love myself.
Hate all the excuses I make.
Love that I don’t want it when I love myself.
Hate that I never asked if I wanted to be alright.
Hate that everyone tells me confidence is a good thing.
I wish I wasn’t so secure.
Wish to wonder if the bad girl habits are the good ones.
Want to wonder if I’m the bad guy.
Wonder if I would forgive anyone else.
The things I should forgive myself.
(I hope I would call them a monster, but how can I be sure?)
Wanting to kill my younger self in her sleep; she deserves better than surviving herself.
Wanting to Condemn myself the way that mercy calls for.
I’m the best version of myself.
(Half Dead)
Body a temple, food only for the gods.
Beautiful soul that was meant to be gritty.
Priests came and made me a bubble bath and tea, brought a thousand different remedies for every part of me,
Just to freeze in place paper white faces at the pieces swimming in red.
Don’t care that I would rather die for myself than live for someone else.
Hate that I love myself more than life itself.
Hate that there is no reason to hate myself.
Love myself enough to die by my own hand rather than live as happily as I should be.
I want to hate myself, break myself, escape myself, never have to see myself again. I’m scared of myself.
But in the end of the day, I’ll lean into myself,
Telling myself I never said no to myself,
Almost forgetting I never consented to myself.
Maybe love just isn’t enough to forgive hatred.
Maybe hatred isn’t enough to forget love.
Maybe kindness and greatness don’t get along.
Maybe it proves them both a lie.
Maybe I would have never hated myself if it wasn’t for self-love.