not a temple.

cw: mention of self-harm, eating disorders

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my body is not a temple

the cuts on my skin

are not vandalism

the binges

not money-changers

whips only brought out when i

say so

i don’t need a recommend here

no restoration needed

let the signs of wear

of age of trauma of storm

alone

my body is not a temple

with sparkling chandeliers

and spotless tile floors

a supposed refuge from

The World

my body is worn out

run down

bruised scarred breaking bursting

in the world      of it

and more sacred than a building

of brick and mortar

will ever be

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you know that place, when the depression gets so bad that you can’t feel anymore. you’re completely overloaded and then your mind tries to protect itself by shutting off your ability to feel.

and you can’t manage to get to work, or to school, or even out of the house.

and you don’t want to be an inconvenience, so you keep it all to yourself.

what i want you to say to me:

let’s run away.

i miss you.

i’ve been thinking about you.

let’s hang out. right now.

how are you, really?

let me give you a hug.

you are a beautiful person.

okay, that one was actually funny.

i know you can’t get out of your head, so i’m coming in.

go ahead, sing along.

can i make you dinner?

come here. scoot closer.

throw away your scale. those numbers aren’t important.

play me a song!

it’s okay. i can just sit here and hold your hand if you don’t want to speak.

you are smart. you are intelligent.

you got this.

let me tell you about my day.

i like having you around.

we should do this more often.

you are important to me.

i care about you.

you matter.