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I want to be dissected.
I want every inch of my body to be meticulously cut in a perfect half and that opening of my half to be properly evaluated.
I want hands inside my privacies, hands inside my intestines, hands in my impurities.
I want to be dissected because it gives me value.
I will be noticed and precisely taken time on.
I will be touched, and even though I may not like it
my entity will be valued.
I want to be cut, opened, taken out,
piece by
piece
by.
piece.
Each person to see every part of me.
Each aspect of me held carefully.
And although the pathologist may be a maniac.
Its ok. This is the job he loves.
And even though the love isn’t specifically for me,
It's of me.
And thats all i want.
I just wanted to be loved. To be noticed. To be alone
But to not feel lonely.
The feeling I don't belong.
BEcause i do not.
So I hate myself. I hate myself so much
I willingly choose to be dissected.
I am in this lab, conscious,
choosing to be conscious
while this dissects me.
Because I chose this, I smile as I cry.
The pain i feel but this joy for you.
The facade I’ve built.
The facade I continue to keep
To make others happy.
as my happiness has never mattered. Nor have I really cared for it
So
please.
I truly beg.
Dissect me.
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