Trigger Warning: This poem deals with mental health issues, amongst other things, and may trigger some readers.
Water; She was raised to love it,
but little by little she grew to hate it.
Maybe it was his burning stare
that evaporated any chance for her to dive back in.
Or maybe that he was her friend,
one she thought so close no one thought capable of,
that made her hatred grow,
spreading like petroleum,
contaminating the waters she once thought were safe.
But with a single light of a match,
that girl who learned to trust,
never trusted again.
Ablaze a girl who was now slowly drowning in fire.
I'm fiNe,
she would say,
pinching herself to convince her mind those words were true.
Even when it hurt and the smell of blood brought her back,
she never felt a pain stronger than the one her heart knew.
No one noticed.
At least she convinced herself no one did.
She smiled and embraced an act she so constantly repeated the mornings before school began,
afraid that if it didn't seem real,
someone would notice.
And if someone did,
her weakness will be displayed
like a gazelle in the open Savannah where so many predators are waiting to prey on.
No one seems to notice how much she exerts herself in physical activities,
how much she eats,
how much she stares at herself in the mirror
to find any new flaws she can use as an excuse to do more.
But it is normal for her to be that way, right?
She studies all day,
deprives herself of some sleep to keep the academic profile up,
while eating more than what her body can hold.
School ends and summer begins,
which for her is always a mix of both fortunate and terrible luck.
Lucky she gets to burn those calories she gained,
to perfect her body just like her mind wants it to.
Unlucky to see her academic efforts come to a waste
as she sees her transcript and sees that she is in the same place.
The hatred only rises,
displaying to her mom how much she's grown,
how much of that little girl she raised to swim is still left.
Summer for many is a chance to be who you want
without anyone looking at you,
not judging you,
not wishing they were you.
She hates the people that admire her
because they only see what's in the surface and not what's below.
Because she knows if they met the real her
they would be disgusted and scared.
Not all monsters were made to scare.
This monster was meant to destroy.
She locks herself in the bathroom,
waiting for the tears to fall,
but they never do.
Instead, her eyes burn like a million forest fires.
She puts it out with water as she enters her tub,
never taking off her clothes.
She sinks and relaxes into a comfortable position,
afraid that if she doesn't,
she will remember their eyes.
She breathes slowly.
In and out. Fast and slow.
I'm FiNe,
she repeats as she pounds her fists into her head,
as if that can engrave the message she so hard tried to believe,
I'm FiNe,
before she submerges herself into a tub of water,
one many call a very long bath.
Note to reader: If you know someone who was a rape victim, please know that they are not alone. Suicide should never be an option. Contact the following hotlines for additional help. Call 800.656.HOPE or 1-800-273-8255. Your voice will be heard.
