self loathe, the fear of myself, oh,
I was very, very afraid, lost, and confused.
as I swam through alcohol, I beat at the waves like I still cared for life. what a good actress I was at the unforgiving age of 13. for I couldn't forgive anybody. I couldn't forgive my peers, I couldn't forgive my father, I couldn't forgive my mother, I couldn't forgive myself for not forgiving others. I felt the world's numbness putting its frigid hand over my mouth and I screamed, with rebellion in my crazed response and it felt great even though nobody heard me. i wanted to reject everything as i felt rejected myself, so much so that I started to shed my skin.
my body became only an estranged terrain in the mirror, a barrier, a restriction that enclosed around my young, insane soul. and forget the first time I ever felt sexuality; because the only love I had left in my derangement was my purity.
were we all this delusional (extremely angry, and sad, mostly angry) when we were thirteen?
