What are you looking for?
Featured Topics
Select a topic to start reading.
If you are in crisis and need immediate help, please call 1-800-273-8255 (NSPL) or text HOME to 741741 (Crisis Text Line). More resources.
I pick myself apart piece by piece
Just like how I used to pick apart petals on a flower
I was young when I learned how to pick things
Maybe it’s my fault
Teaching myself to pick
To tear
To break
To ruin
To hate
Maybe being picked apart piece by piece by a woman who wanted nothing else other than to see me fail
To watch me fail
To watch me break
To shatter into a million pieces
Pieces connected but only by a little string
That’s about to snap
And everything will be lost
Forgotten
Gone
Maybe that’s a good thing
The hate will live on
But the pain will not
Except put onto others
When I was little
I would pick the food off my plate that looked gross
Had I known I would do that to myself
Picking apart everything that looks ugly
What they say is true
What you learn as a kid stays with you
Picking up dirty rocks from outside and sneaking them inside
Like picking up comments
Pictures
Perfect people
Seen online
Seen in real life
Someone you are so close with
Who is perfect beyond imagination
And taking them with you
Holding onto them to paint a picture of what you should look like in your head
No
What you NEED to look like
Seeing that you don’t look like that picture
And picking yourself apart even more
All that picking
All that keeping
All that hate
All that ugly
It’s tiring
I’m tired
I’m finished
I hate it
But I have to
Put that pain onto others
Leaving my pieces for them to pick up
Maybe
While they are picking up my pieces
They will keep some
Remembering little parts of me
The parts I hate
But they love
Turning that hate into love
Putting me back together
Or
My pieces will be thrown
Thrown out of love
Out of light
Into dark
A place full of hate
Full of ugly
Where my pieces belong
Because that is what they are made of
I always got taught to not pick on other people
But what I didn’t get taught
Not picking on myself
But that’s what I do
Pick until I bleed
Bleed out love
Bleed out hope
Bleed out pretty
Until there’s nothing but flesh and bone
The stuff that keeps you together
But not whole
So all you are is a shell
Empty
Just bones
Bones that you were built off of
Bones that you started with
Bones that taught you how to pick
Bones that caused the hate
That caused the ugly
All you’re left with
Is bones
Oh the amount of pieces I have picked myself apart into
Too many to count
Too many to fix
To put back together
I will forever be broken
Unhappy
Filled with hate
But not for other people
I still have love for them
But none for me
I’m too ugly to love
I have nothing left to love
Picking pieces apart
Until they are too small
Too late to fix
To find
Until my pieces are gone
If you see a comment that is unsupportive or unfriendly, please report it using the flag button.
More Posts
-
I don't know what to do
Ok I tend to overthink a lot but really for absolutely nothing, the thing is I know I should and what I think is not true but I can't stop. I scan't stop worr...
-
Older Woman Self Harm
When I moved to a new town and to a new house, I met an older woman. She was widowed and her son didn't speak to her anymore due to fights between him and her p...