My Own Demise

My dry mouth ajar, lips cracking open and bleeding with my dry tongue screaming at the sky. The wind eats my ragged plea to not be heard by anyone. I fall to the ground and rain starts to speckle my skin feeling cold followed by a warm gust of wind. I can see the swirling funnel in the distance heading my direction but I cannot bring myself to unfold my legs and stand to save myself. I just sat there in a crumpled pile unable to make sense of what was happening anymore. How did I get here after all I have done and strived to avoid this and yet here I am in the exact place and situation I thought I could escape. I always knew my life was going to end prematurely, I had planned on it actually to escape the pain of existence. To avoid my eyes that have always looked longingly into themselves in their reflection in the mirror pleading with themselves to stop resisting the inevitable. Being stubborn has always been a trait that roared louder in my Leo blood than any other. I naively and idealistically thought I could change my fate and set to worm at doing so without a plan or means to carry out the non existent plan. Years passed and life, despite minor struggles and ignoring indiscretions and disrespect suffered at others hands, I ignorantly tricked myself into believing that I could just shove all that down inside and pretend it didn’t happen or make excuses for a reason behind why it happened and explained it away and accepted the abuse as warranted. My eyes never met another person’s, my voice no louder than a whisper, trying to shrink my fat body maybe melt myself like ice or out run my skin and just be pure wind into as tiny a position as was possible hoping no one would notice the elephant in the room or apologize for the space I took up. Walking around apologizing for existing and smiling and making it into a game I played to see how long I could play before my character expired. As the winds increase and my crumpled body remains firmly planted to the ground in direct line with the funnel I felt myself lift from the ground being dragged into the funnel and to my demise my ragged cry still going unheard forever. Before there was nothing left of me my final thought haunted me no one will notice any way because you never mattered. Why try when the funnel is actually you dragging yourself into chaos and undermining all the precious efforts taken in vain. I am my own worst enemy because I never mattered to me either. There’s a part of me that cries out to save myself but deep inside I know that no one values me therefore there is nothing worth saving anymore. I believe that once you have settled for broken it is too difficult to see anything other than all my shattered pieces scattered all across the floor and I have nothing left to attempt to even cheaply fashion it together. I lost my grandmother and grandfather two years ago and she always prayed for me which made me feel like I meant something to her and she would always say she knows I do not believe her but she loved me. During her last week on this earth she was very confused and in and out of reality. She thought I was there to help her like a therapist and she shared to me the therapist that she always worries about her granddaughter or me but she doesn’t know this and proceeds to tell me that she just feels so bad for her because she is so heavy and people do not accept her and what a tragedy that she is so heavy she would be so pretty if she would just lose some weight. I became extremely upset and told my mother and aunt what had happened and that I wanted to leave and they stated she was so confused she did t even know she was talking to me and she wasn’t being mean or trying to hurt me because she didn’t know. This hurt me even more. I have never in my life been touched by a person that actually cared about me or accepted me. I was also not allowed to make sound when I cried because it annoyed my father and least of all was I allowed to have any aversive feelings about how I was treated because after all I was heavy and do not meet acceptable standards. I learned to just be quiet and when I cried tears would just stream down my face but my mouth stayed closed and all that surrounded me was silence. There were times my father would not allow me to eat dinner stating I had probably eaten enough throughout the day to sustain my current heaviness and did not need any more food and there were times that I had not eaten all day but would be denied food due to being overweight. My mother would yell across the room at a party to question whether or not I wanted to actually eat another cookie that I had in my hand because after all I had already had one. I at one point spent two years working out and eating healthy and lost 150 pounds and everyone was so proud of me except me. When I looked at myself I didn’t recognize myself. I felt bigger then than I had when I weighed 150 pounds more. I felt unsafe and lost in a unfamiliar foreign body. Then guys started showing me attention and it was unwanted but none the less I got it and I knew if anything happened I could not protect myself. All I had ever tried to do was to keep people su attention off of me so I could be safe but fat or thin I received attention that I did not want. Being fat made me more of a target for people’s eyes filled with disdain and disgust when looking at me. I could not hide what I was and people could not hide their judgment nor did they try. I worked in a psychiatric unit and patients would call me the four hundred pound tattooed freak. One woman told me I was beautiful and that she wrote a poem about me and proceeded to sing it to me all night as I was placed outside her door to watch another patient and she referred to me in her symphony as the beautiful sumo wrestler, so majestic. Despite my efforts I find myself stuck between continuing to earn my life no matter the hit, punch, nasty word or look, the unwanted touching, being ostracized and not accepted because I believe or believed I had so much to give and was much more capable than the life I was leading and just finally giving in to popular opinion. I find myself thinking maybe I am not more capable of anything other than where I am at and what if my life just proceeds to get worse. Then why did I fight so hard to save and claim a life that is tanking so quickly and is so out of control that it is beyond saving? To keep living alone, lonely and worthless. Why fight the inevitable plus I am just tired so unbelievably tired of always and I do mean always having to prove that I am worthy of being in the world. I wish oh do I wish that things could have been different that maybe I was a diamond in the rough and I got kicked into the river and the water could wear me down to make me smooth, acceptable and just like everyone else but all I continue to feel is jagged, rough edges and I keep cutting myself on them.