I LOVE YOU 💔

I had a therapist who told me once that it was ironic how much love I gave out coz I didn't give much to myself. She laughed,like self love was a sick joke. I chuckled and cried at home. I had someone who once told me I couldn't love someone else until I learn to love myself. This time I got to laugh. This time the sick joke was mine. It was me who's mad and sad forever. I remember hating myself at the age of seven. Journals filled to the brim with criticism by eight I had enough pages to stich them into rings. If I close enough to the sun I would see my tears turn to steam for the wax burned on my shoulders and molded a thick skin. I was nine when I wanted to die, thirteen when I found a solution. Figured if I cut my legs enough the gravity would let me go but it didn't. I tied a pillow case around my neck twisting like the rope swings I knew so well from childhood,heard my heartbeat pound in my ears like a warning drum then fade. I almost convinced myself that I've done it. I started writing. I smeared my blood on every page. Told myself that everything beautiful has a consequence. I'd hope to stop the clouding long enough to give myself to the craft and let myself go.