Anxiety

I want to crawl deep inside my own skin and hug my heart until it bursts, shattering into a million obscene pieces. Today, standing in the dressmaking shop, being poked and prodded and twisted a million torturous ways, I fell into myself – though not quite as completely as one should hope. They spoke while I crawled, lame and defeated, away from my ugly figure bursting from the three way mirror. Desperately, I attempted to claw my way back to the words stewing in the back of my sordid mind, to where the words were, to where my body was immaculate and soul complete. But the two of them pulled me back out before I could finalize the shaky transaction, I hadn’t reached far enough to lose my body completely; and before I understood the vowels spewed out I was no longer allowed to eat waffles. Their voices echo in the mirrors, the three reflecting their words on to my skin, and burning them down permanently – to be beautiful you must keep your mouth shut. I won’t eat, I promise I will be good, behave my very, very best.

To be beautiful you must keep your mouth shut.

When I was three I climbed up on the dining room table, being a mischievous toddler, and knocked over a bottle of wine, it fell on the ground and broke. It was an awful mess. I didn’t break anything after that, not once. I cried terribly, and I promised, promised repeatedly, I would not break anything ever again.

But, I am still not unreachable here - the lights are much too harsh and the words still hold their sting – so I will be good, and keep my mouth shut. I measured the widths and lengths, and put them to paper to make them concrete and menacing; they’ve haunted my otherwise lovely dreams, pushing their way into the beautiful depths of my mind, corners otherwise untainted. I have learned my lesson, I swear to it.