I will love the way the left brain loves the right brain if there even is such a thing, I will love like all my gray matter really does matter, like it’s more than just a scientific term, like my brain is capable of more than the grey it shades itself into every day.
There are bees and yellow jackets that sting to know they’re alive and then bees and yellow jackets that sting to inflict pain and I can’t promise I won’t be both.
May I wish to live twice as many times as I wish to die.
The spine feels pain because it can’t witness its own beauty, otherwise that would involve a bending of its own body, otherwise it would break itself in order to feel understood. May I always be standing even if I am never understood. I will stand up even if in all the years before I never stood up. I will witness my own beauty. Without any broken bones.
I will not always be kind. I will not always be able to bite my tongue and hold back the fire living inside my mouth that threatens to turn every word into a burning building. But every individual cell will still do its best to put out the flames, until this body is not hot but warm, until this body understands that sometimes spitting fire is worse than swallowing flame.
May I always be a series of riptides that never learn how to flow in the same direction. May I always be full of opposites, may I never be perfect. May I be flawed and flowing in the wrong direction if it will only teach me which one is the right one. May I always be riptides and never tsunamis. I may be monstrous and aching but I never want to tear myself apart.
And sometimes I will be unforgivable. Not just my actions, but me. I will be one stumbling, giant apology that no one knows how to accept. The only thing is that I’ve never accepted myself, so if someone else apologizes to me for the fact that I am me, then in some way, by proxy, I’ll learn to love myself.
No one can promise other people there won’t be bruises. Whether on the skin or in the heart and me, I will always be bruises. Not just own them but be them. I will be full of holes that others will do their best to fill, but the truth is that maybe I can’t be saved. That doesn’t mean I ever have to stop trying.
I am worth trying.
I am worth stupid silly laughter, sunburns, the kind of sex that feels so good it ends up hurting, that ends with chafed skin, hickeys on inner thighs, I am worth that inner high, I am worth the pulp at the bottom of the orange juice carton, but I was never pulp, I was never the last thing left at the bottom of anything, I don’t deserve rock bottom, I am not leftovers.
Try to kill me once but I’ve already tried to kill myself more than twice already, I will be ready for anything and everything you throw at me.
I’m gonna live. I’m gonna make it.