on my worst day

I feel numb. I feel so fucking numb that it hurts. I’ve cried so much that opening my eyes burns with such an intensity that I want to rip them out. And my head won’t stop throbbing, it won’t stop and as much as I bang my hands against my skull, it’s not enough. My throat feels dry and clogged up and I’m trying to talk but nothing except sad whimpers escape from my mouth. I’m trying to stay strong, and I’m trying not think about picking up that blade, but the longer I sit in my own pathetic thoughts, the more tempting it is.

I have relinquished all emotions and now I am just a skeleton covered in scarred skin. I have a heart somewhere in there, too, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything.

After feeling immense pain, sadness, and emptiness; I am finally numb.

As women, we are taught to be tiny. To have small bodies, to never be imposing. The ideal of our gender are thin and childlike, hairless and dainty. We are defined by our bodies; defined by our control over them. We are taught to obsess over our physicality and to be repulsed by our desires and intelligences.
We are taught to walk scared late at night. We cradle our keys between our perfectly manicured fingers, walking gracefully like a baby antelope in a herd of lions. That our virginity defines our character. That I am a frigid bitch if I do not fuck him, and a dirty slut if I do.

Michelle K., The Truth About Growing Up A Woman (via jamstains)