a perfect gift

i look at myself in the mirror and meet my own gaze as i stare into one eye and then the other. i begin to peel the skin back from my chest and watch as the blood drips down my body. i reach beneath my ribs to feel a fist full of my own flesh. my body is already so numb i don’t feel the pain as i separate my heart from what has now become the shell of my body. i place my heart into a pretty box. i wrap it tactfully with wrapping paper and a dainty little bow and write down the name of this gift’s recipient on the envelope of the card i tape to the top of the box. i look at it with pride. “perfect” — i think to myself.

i look down into the wound i forged and hear the patter of the blood as it falls onto the cold tile. i stand with blood-stained hands in a pool of red, shameful of the utter mess i’ve made of myself. embarrassment and humiliation consume my entire being. i see my outline in the mirror from the corner of my eye, but i refuse to look at myself in such a state. my body goes cold and bouts of nausea rush in and out like waves at the thought of the self-respect i so willingly surrendered. but even so, a small inkling of an unidentifiable presence keeps me from losing consciousness entirely. the faint familiarity helps me realize that the small presence is myself, or at least what i’ve left after my intrusive self-invasion. though seemingly insignificant, it’s still enough of myself to remind me that even if i let others possess the very thing that keeps me alive, i can feel safe knowing that a semblance of myself still exists. a part of myself that belongs to me and will only ever belong to me. perhaps it’s a ghost, perhaps it’s my soul — but what difference does it make if i can still feel me?

just as i regretfully find my eyes in my own reflection and succumb to the self-perpetuated guilt, my emotions manifest in a way that physically overwhelms my body. but as if on cue, the people that love me the most come rushing in to help me through it. they embrace me and keep me warm and force me to take small sips of water and find a way to return my heart to my body and stitch me up. they clean up the mess and wipe my tears and tell me that they love me. they show me that they love me. they harbor my delicate feminine energy and remind me of how valuable it is — to never let go of it. they remind me it’s okay to give and it’s okay to love and it’s okay to keep loving even when i don’t get it back the way i would like sometimes.

i’m so tired now. i’m so, so tired — but even so i manage to crack a smile. because yes i’m exhausted and yes i’m hurt and yes i feel a little broken at times, but i can sit in the stillness knowing that i will never be left alone so long that they are around. i will never forget this feeling of love; this feeling of protection.

to all my friends — i love you so much, more than i could truly ever articulate in words. thank you for everything, i owe you the world for all you have given me.