Vents Hidden in Verse

challenger's deep

A/N: it's the sensitive boi hours. i guess i've recently started to notice things about myself. and why the fuck am i awake at this hour?

written August 10th, 2020 at 5:15 A.M.

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invertebrate.
i have no backbone.

no drive, no will to commit myself
to something so long term.
afraid i'll commit myself
to the wrong hobby or practice.

i roam freely on the sandy sea floor,
living out my days in salty nothingness.

i want to see results,
yet i never seem to keep myself interested
to the point where i get some.

ideally, i'd like to be happy.
my appearance isn't horrendous.
and yet i stand in front of the mirror,
full of judgement and horror.

"why are the zits getting bigger?"
"when did the stretch marks get there?"
"fuck, is that cellulite?"

he said, "let's be honest, you never really try. give something else a damn effort."
he said, "girls like you would be ugly
without confidence."
he said, "those shorts fit way better on you now."
he made me pull up my shirt
to show the progress
that never physically happened.

how do older men get away
with comments such as this?

i seemingly hold myself with confidence,
yet i suck in my stomach everywhere i go.

i haven't stepped on a scale
since horror month.
i fear the numbers, they have no mercy.

i reduced calories until lightheadedness .
i pushed through workout after workout.
but never saw a steady decline.

he kept saying
that i was doing something wrong.
but i listened to every damn instruction
he gave to me.

i hate this.
i don't even know who i am.
just some odd mollusk
at the heart of the ocean.

nattasha's hit challenger's deep.
anyone got a submarine?