I cannot show my mother my wrist
scattered with the red half-moon marks left by my nails
She will not understand
that the pain allows me to be in control
even when I’m so far out of control
that I’ve lost myself.
I control the pain.
I control the emotions through my head by replacing them
the adrenaline rush to my brain.
I know it’s wrong
to hurt myself. I disappoint myself every time
because I was out of control enough to resort to this.
But I keep losing control, and I need the control
Sometimes it’s all I have.
I’m sure they could give me medicine
to lessen the need for control
and maybe to keep my emotions in control in the first place.
But I don’t want medicine.
The control allows me to create my art
my arguments, math, science, english…it all hinges on my need for control.
Once I lose that what will I have left?
Who will I be?
As for the emotions, as for the panic,
my brain is my brain
and once I surrender it to chemicals
I will not be myself.
I’ve worked too hard to be myself
to let meds destroy me.
My mother would be so disappointed,
if she saw this.
She would think she’s failed me.
She hasn’t failed me.