when my lighter drops

It took

all it took was one photo on social media to hit me
I will never look like her.
It feels like this is the only topic I can hit.
That one everyone feels, it's the obvious one but why does the feeling I get embeds itself inside me and hide. It gives secret punches and jabs to everything in my body. in my head.
I want to so badly look like her, so I could be loved by myself and more.
so that i can look at myself and feel such joy.
After I see the picture, all I can do is try to calm down.
I message the people I can care for and tell them I love them. I make sure they are okay and well.
all i want to do is cry, i want to hurt myself again.
I ran down the stairs.
walk into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
Once the smoke can start to spread through the room I step in the shower.
the hot water running down my back,
hitting my head and i try to not look down.
to be forced to see the truth of my own body.
The steam is sitting in the air, trying to stuff my lungs to the brim.
I can't breathe. I'm fighting for a breath.
The emotions are all hitting me.
the boom in my head, the sting in my heart. the noise of buzzing in my ears.
all i see is a place that i was once so happy,
which has now been dropped.
I try to distract and distance myself from such horrific thoughts of my death and erase my mind of how the rest of the world looks.
how beautiful,
how incredibly beautiful.
but my tears stopped.
my throat is tight keeping the noise of my whippers in.
but my eyes won't let anything past? why?
My panic starts to hit even harder, almost like everyone is pushing me in all sorts of directions so I can't fall off the edge- even if that seems like the purpose.
my face hurts,
my heart hurts,
it all hurts.
But I can only hurt more as I walk back up the stairs and smile before I turn back into the dimly lit blue room that I thought protected me finally.
I was wrong.
I've returned.