*** TRIGGER WARNING: CONTAINS DEPICTIONS OF SELF-HARM ***
*** DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE NOT FEELING EMOTIONALLY/MENTALLY FIT
If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health and/or self harm/suxcxde, please call National Suicide Prevention Hotline -- 1-800-273-8255 OR your country's local emergency line ***
The Assessor
I look over my body like a property assessor. Which areas have already been taken, and which ones make for terrible locales, and which spots are supple and untouched.
My hands go up in front of me, palms toward the sky, beckoning reason to fall into them. I am desperate. Alas, I find that the only reason given, is that to sell. Sell the estates on my body. The right hip only has one resident, I might be able to fit another two or three large homes there. The front of my thighs have been taken over with residents, some almost there a decade now. They are comfortable there, becoming a part of their surroundings, trying to blend in. That area just won't do, it can't handle any more occupants.
But my mind races, I need to sell some property, soon. None of the clients want to be seen by the prying eye, so I seek out the best locations, the most seldom seen. Ten years ago, the thighs were prime real estate, but now it seems I'm running out of areas to put these occupants.
Now, the best areas are the hips, not much else would work for my clientele. Ah, now I see the reason, I have found my answer. The hips! Of course, we can fit so many occupants there, and they will love the hidden solitude. I'm ready to bring them, they're ready to settle. The right hip resident will get a new community soon, I am excited. I grab the blade and begin carving homes in the best spot. Some are longer or wider than others, but that just adds to the neighborhood charm.
Occupants are happy with their new homes (it was too dark and crowded where they came from) and my deed is done. A weight is lifted.
A feeling of profound calm strikes me, as I look down at the land that is my body, and I am happy.
YOU ARE READING
Just A Broken Thing
PuisiThese are the thoughts and feelings that go through the mind of a young, broken girl. She doesn't make sense and doesn't expect you to make any out of it.
