Naked. Nothing on: no clothes; no shoes; no necklace; no ring; and no, not even socks. Naked. Revealing what I cover. I cover with clothing, with a style I create as my image; the image I choose for you to see. Just an image. The person I choose you to see; maybe not quite the person I really am. No. Not the person I am.
Naked. Revealing who I am.
To love who you are. I look in the mirror, looking myself in the eye; looking deep and seeing the person underneath, whom I protect. To love that person.
Naked. Unable to look that person in the eye; only looking at the flaws that cover the person. The body that is far from meeting perfect. The body I determine as the person I am. I hate it.
Love the body. The body is our greatest tool; the tool we use to do; to create and to be. Protect the body; care and love the body.
I crave a cigarette. Somehow the mental state worships it; the body disintegrates. I pollute my lungs; I pollute my blood stream. The inhale passes through my entire body, loosening the tight areas, releasing with exhale into the air and out... away forever. My body builds tar inside for a five minute break to take time to inhale and exhale, outside in 'fresh' air, perhaps with a friend to chat with. Can I just take that five minutes, please? All I really need is the time to breathe, to inhale the air that captures my inner toxins and releases them outside of the body; the body I need to protect.
I eat. I feel guity. I hate what my body looks like because I eat. So I eat more and more and more. Then I don't eat at all. I skip meals and think my body will look better. If I look better, I'll feel better. I only feel worse. I torture my body- suffer in hunger, I hate you. Eat the stored fats and allow me to disintegrate. Again. Instead, it holds onto the fats because I deprive it of proper nutrients. It shuffles to hold onto whatever it possibly can, for I hold back from nurturing my body; from loving my body. Is this not the only way? I need to fit in the clothes I cover who I really am with- to be an image you can approve of. I want to reach your expectations. Then I will love my body too... when you do.
I cut. Frustration, pain, hate, anger- mere emotion- it builds and builds and builds and I have no idea how to control it anymore. I want to scream, I want to cry... sometimes I just want to die. Oh... but I don't want to die. Frustration and pain and anger and hate and love and missing love and tears that won't stop... I cut. It releases and no longer do I struggle to control it. It stings and it hurts. I bleed. And then I am still crying... and I scar my body. I hide what I did to myself; bury it under clothes you can determine as who I am. I hide it with a smile; with success; with money; with so many things to do that I even hide it from myself. Yet; when I am naked... I know. I hurt my body.
I do nothing. I am a useless piece of skin, that sits while the days pass by... one after another. I sit in the stands and watch others play the game. I tell them what they should be doing and how they should do it. They barely ever do it the right way. I could do it better- with my eyes closed. I feel heavy; low to the ground, tired. I sleep. My eyes are closed most of my life; my blinks are slow and heavy. My skin is dry. I don't even care anyway. My body disintegrates. Again.
Stupid. Ugly. Useless.
Fat. Lazy. Dense.
Revolting. Idiot. Gross.
I fill my mind. I believe it.
Don't judge me. I am my worst judge; you can't compete.
Naked. I can't bare to stay here. I cover myself. It becomes such a ritual, I believe I am who you see. I create my world as that image and you treat me as that image. The image I choose. A failure or a scholar. A bitch or a sweetheart. Busy or has time to listen. An ememy... or a friend. Why do I choose this one?
I ask myself.
And I constantly keep asking because I am not the person I let people see. I wish they did see, because when I stare in my eyes in my reflection I know I am pretty fucking amazing. I wish they knew that. Be naked. Be true- but not to others, to myself.
And love my body; it is my greatest tool. I am stronger than I think I am. Challenge my body, it needs to grow. Nurture my body, it needs to be strong. Breathe. Take time to think, don't allow myself to pollute who I am. I am the only one to see me naked; I won't allow anyone else see until I am happy with my reflection- with the person I am, not the person I pretend to be.
Be naked.
written april 5, 2008.
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1 comment:
Due to worried readers, this blog was written in first person to explore ways 'people' in general abuse their bodies. It explores the dark secrets we don't like to explore. I ask you to read it, relate, perhaps ask how you might abuse your own body, but lastly, allow yourself to understand the strength and power your body as our number one tool has and appreciate it!
sorry for confusion!
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