Email Poem

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I have tried to TEAR MYSELF APART.
Picking at my skin until it bleeds.
Pulling at the extra skin around my waist as if that simple act would make it disappear. 

I debated wearing a bag over my head just to cover up my face.
I held a razor to my wrist and wondered if I should pull it across my skin and down my arm.
I just wanted there to be proof on the outside so they couldn’t tell me that my scars are invalid just because they are invisible to the naked eye. 

But I never did those things. 
As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t tear myself into pieces that would resemble my heart and mind. 
No matter how many extremes I took, I would still appear whole, allowing people to tell me that my pain would never add up to theirs like it's some kind of contest. 

But I decided that I hurt enough the way it is.
Enough people made me feel invisible and unwanted. 
Enough people mutilated me in ways that will never scab over and heal with time.

So I set the bag on fire, and dropped the razor into the garbage can, and waved goodbye to all the tormentors as I ascended the ladders leading into the sky.

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