6 Hard Months

Standards slipping, potential fading,
Concentration and motivation declined,
I find myself surrounded, entombed by hateful voices,
I cannot care and I cannot feel, I am trapped in a void,

I have not been taking care, these clothes I wear,
Stained with blood they are, as is my skin as I do not wash,
My teeth are rotting, my breath stinks, and my body odour, what must people think,
All of this I know you will hate,

It is like a wall has emerged before me, in my mind,
An obstacle that cannot be passed, scaled, nor can an alternative route be found,
It can be pierced, broken down, I have made it through at times,
Through immense pain and energy, it is not a fight I can see myself winning,

I’m not eating, I survive on a several hundred calories a day,
In the mirror I see fat, I know that I am not,
But that did not stop me carving it in,
I’m weighing in at 130lbs, apparently I’m severely underweight,
But why; because I want to die, I want life to cease,
Everything else is so messy, hanging, overdosing and to be honest it is not dying that I want,
My plan is starving myself to the point that I need urgent medical attention,
Perhaps a heart attack, somewhere public, perhaps I am saved, forced to seek help,
Perhaps somewhere isolated, I die and I’m forgotten about,

 
Work and study is simple, nothing that I cannot do,
Yet I cannot approach it, instead I hide from it, distracting myself with other pursuits,
My days are cutting, it has become somewhat of an obsession, I have even started a collection,
My bathroom runs red with blood, a 12 by 6 foot room, painted in blood,
Walls, floor, ceiling, bathroom fixtures, everything painted in blood,
To this day, I still feel pride with what I achieved in blood, it gives me butterflies,
It calls out for more, tear the flesh from your arm, and bathe in blood once more,

For the sake of my own sanity, back to the poetry,
How I’m feeling is nothing new mother, I have been this way for what feels like forever,
I simply cannot manage to conceal it anymore,
Deadlines and exams fast approaching, I have failed to work on my final year project this final semester,

I reiterate that it is not difficult work, I am very capable, I’m just really fucked up,
I dare not phone you, I know what I will get,
Your thoughts of me being lazy, stupid and not capable of this work,
Whilst there is hope for me passing this course, I am going to need your support,
I need a break, I need to recover,
Call me a failure, pretender, Say I killed all my chances and I deserve to be dead,
Then that is what I will be, I will be dead,