The demons that tell me to be perfect are the ones holding me back from perfection.
It doesn’t make sense.
To be completely honest I’m not okay.
That doesn’t really matter now though does it?
I’ve decided to have a kid right?
So I can’t go jump off my balcony.
Land on my head with a nice little splat.
Even though every bone in my body is aching to.
Except for the babies bones.
I’ve got a little tiny human growing in me.
The size of a blueberry this week.
It has a heart.
I can’t care that the number on the scale is going up.
I can’t care that my fingers are getting thinner while my stomach grows.
I can’t care that I have to eat 2000 calories a day.
I can’t care that every fucking bite hurts and begs to find the toilet.
I have to eat more.
I can’t speak to you.
You don’t even understand.
I wine you say?
You try growing a human while wanting to be dead.
Because you know what I don’t want to exist.
I don’t know how to do this.
If I do anything that kills the baby you’ll break up with me you say?
What if I slit my wrists because I just can’t breathe?
Would you hate me then too?
It’s just a blueberry.
A little blueberry that causes me to be nauseated.
A little blueberry that makes my hips ache.
Ache so bad I can barely walk.
But I ignore the pain.
Because I can’t talk to you remember?
I thought I could.
I only spoke when it was truly terrible.
But I can’t even say that can I?
Here I am carrying around your little blueberry
Unable to speak.
I don’t know how to take care of a blueberry.
I need you.
Do you get that?
I fucking need you.
I can’t do this shit on my own.
I need you to sit with me while I cry
I need to talk to you about all the terrible shit in my head
I can’t leave it in there
I need to wake you up in the middle of the night so I don’t do anything stupid.
But I can’t do that can I?
I have to lock it all up.
That’s what you seem to want me to do.
For the first time in my life I think I need a therapist.
I need to show you my poetry
that’s not really poetry
just mad ramblings of a hormone crazy pregnant teenager
I need you to understand
But I can’t do that either.
Since you won’t open up to me.
Why would I put my stuff on you?
If you can’t trust me with yours?
To you it be a burden to tell me.
Why would I do that to you if that’s how you see it?
I want to know every terrible depressing thought in your head
I want to know all of you.
Every little bit.
I guess that is a lot to ask of someone.
But I don’t want to hide from you.
I want you to know all of me too.
Because you haven’t been scared away yet.
I can’t let this shit fester there anymore
It’s just a blueberry.
But it needs me to be okay.