my wrists are too wide
i’m thinking about weight. as always. i’m thinking about size and how much room i’m taking up today. i’m graduating from university tomorrow and all i can think about is how i’ll look in the photos. if i will make myself sick. if i will make myself cry. i’m tired of all of this, of being nervous for the wrong reasons, of seeing opportunities for happiness and shooting them in the face. trigger fingers. i should be clinging onto these moments like doves. like fairy dust. instead i am collecting pockets full of misery, of memories of all the wrong things, the wrong moments, the wrong thoughts. but my bracelets don’t fit anymore and for some reason thats more important than anything right now. i never realised my wrists could get bigger. my fingers have even expanded and make rashes underneath my rings. i don’t want to have to take them off so it’s just another thing i endure. like i pick at the eczema on my right wrist. it no longer looks like a rash but a wound. a reminder. a punishment. my wrists are too wide for the dainty, pretty little gold bracelets i used to wear. so now i get this ugly wound instead. people say it looks sore. it is. my head is worse. i’m always thinking stupid things. like how can he love me with wrists this wide, too fat for bracelets. who knew that was even a thing? i know it’s all bullshit, really. but lets try telling that to myself at 3am when i’m crying over pictures of myself in a graduation gown, not overwhelmed with joy that i’ve got a degree in something I love, not overwhelmed with happiness for the young girl in me that would be so fucking proud of achieving what i always wanted. but because i look fat. or my teeth are yellow. or i’m too pale. or my wrists are too wide. but shit girl, you passed despite all that. maybe my wrists got wider cause of all the writing, cause of all the thoughts flowing like the mouths of rivers sliding down from my heart into my arms, into my fingers, into the keys. into your mouth. at least i’m happy to take up space on a page.
