My Skin

I’ve been treated so wrong

I’ve been treated so long

As if I’m becoming untouchables

Contempt loves the silence

It thrives in the dark

With fine winding tendrils

That strangle the heart

They say that promises

Sweeten the blow

But I don’t need them

No, I don’t need them

I’ve been treated so wrong

I’ve been treated so long

As if I’m becoming untouchable

I’m a slow dying flower

Frost killing hour

The sweet turning sour

And untouchable

I’ve felt painstakingly lonely for as long as I can remember. My first memory I was 3 or 4-years old in foster care for the weekend. My older brother was crying and I was comforting him. I have always taken care of other people. Doing for other people. Worrying about other people. Wanting other people to worry about me, doing things for me, and take care of me. Yet here I am alone.

This is the crux of what my therapist and I talk about. Me changing or accommodating other people so I won’t be alone or abandoned. I’ve definitely made major strides with this. Mainly not having an abandonment reaction when NASA and I broke up. Yet I still run from sadness and loneliness. It still hurts like hell when I want to connect with others but don’t get to. Slowly I’m leaning towards the fear and pain. I lean into the sadness so I can learn from it instead of running from it.

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