constant consumption of sex
bodies, skin, legs, breasts, asses
thin frames
perfectly made up
faces and hair
posed and filtered
poking at my every fucking
until it’s practically
in my mind
will never
like this

I am drowning
in feelings of inadequacy
why am I never fucking enough?
I am lost
in a thick layer of distrust
I cannot see where I am going
constantly hitting
dead ends and
rocky roads that lead nowhere
I am tired and
I am drowning

I want to drink wine and
talk until 1am
I want to hear every story and
tell every one of mine
I want to know the little details
of each and every day and
share mine in return
I need someone to know me
really, really know me
the new me and
the old me


There it was. Right there on the phone screen. πŸ”₯ My heart dropped into my stomach. Why was I here again? How did I miss the signs? What is wrong with me? While I was trying to gather the right words to say, your friend comes up and grabs the phone. β€œIs that not your phone?” A moment of relief. But a stark reminder of the past. A pain that still often haunts me.