You should be proud of me
Because I’ve stopped self-harming.
I’ve thrown away the blade, see?
No more emo days of wrist cutting.
You should be proud of me because I’m normal now.
C’mon! Don’t give me that sarcastic “Wow!”
Here, let me show you my tattoo.
Pretty neat, right? This is a sign of self-healing bro!
Let me tell you how
Every single needle pierced through my skin,
Like a battering ram, breaking through the tissues allowing ink to spill in,
And how my body tried to regurgitate the foreign subtance
That was forcibly painted while the needles tap danced,
To the buzzing sound of the machine.
Like I said, my body tried to spew the ink out
By vomitting blood and how it made me react
By sending signals to my brain that my entire forearm stings,
But I didn’t want to step away from the act
Of getting inked because physical pain
Provided an escape from the rattlings of my brain.
You should be proud of me because I’ve limited drinking.
Limited it to the times that I no longer have money
Because I always end up overspending
My solitary nights with “ocassional” binge drinking.
But that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to the dew
That forms around a beer bottle, making it sparkle and glisten, adds flavor to its hue,
Like a sweating woman with accented curves,
It makes your heart go “ba-dump!” and sends a thrill down your nerves.
But don’t worry, I don’t drink that much anymore.
But let me tell you, last night, I downed more than four.
You should be proud of me because I’m eating properly.
Can’t you see the changes on my body?
You wanna know my secret? Here, let me share:
I eat to fill the emptiness that I couldn’t bear.
I eat when I’m gloomy, I eat when I’m mad.
I eat when I’m stressed and I eat when I’m sad.
I eat ’til my stomach hurts because only then I’ll be full,
Only to regret it the next day because I’m bloated
And I’m constipated,
And I feel like a fool.
When I’m feeling too bloated, I then starve myself.
Letting my gut juices eat away at the food that’s inside it.
Allowing it to melt last night’s dinner,
While I curl like a ball in a corner,
Feeling every fizzle and bubble,
I silently suffer,
While the acid chips out pieces of my stomach, sculpting an ulcer.
See? I told you, you should be proud of me.
I am now okay and I am now happy.
Now there’s no need to fret and there’s no need to worry,
Because I’ve been through the worst, right? And now is the time to be joyful and giddy!
And that’s what I’m doing, that’s why you should be proud of me.
You… Should… Be proud of me.