they drew me

Magda Cychowski
Sep 4, 2018 · 2 min read

they drew me

incorrectly

or maybe correctly

not the way i saw myself

not the way my mother spoke to me about beauty

and worth

so many arrows

pointing at everything

my eyes

the ones i thought

the ones that were

the only things

i loved

the ones that are

traitors now

“too tall”

“ugly teeth”

every part

things i had wondered about

and feared

became all i was worth

and when she cried to me

my best friend

the one that drew this

diagram

dissecting

anything i had left

i told her

i love you

and i wondered how

or when

i learned to love things

that drew me incorrectly

that night

in your bed

you never asked

or maybe you did

i remember saying no

so many times

you made me repeat it

over and over

“to make sure”

until finally i wondered

if something was wrong with me

for not wanting it

or you

if maybe this is how everyone else loved

or made love

or fucked

if i was missing something

about bodies

and how they should touch each other

something you claimed to know

still

it hurt

“no”

“didn’t i say no?!”

and you held my hands down

you held me in place

you monster

and for a second there

i thought

i’ll never get this

ever

whatever love

or fucking is

“you shouldn’t let me be on top”

“or instinct will take over”

instinct — the thing i haven’t been able to trust

since being wrong about you

your instinct

that you valued

more than my

pleading

and when i saw you in a bar

months later

i ran out

and ran back in

in the hopes that i’d run into you

to rewrite the story

to prove that something good

happened that night

“how have you been”

you said

destroying me

and then

“i love you”

by accident

a routine

and i wondered how

or when

you learned to fake love

to fill an apology

and i ran back to a girl

who made me feel seen

who i sometimes thought about

naked

and i couldn’t tell

whether this was love

or just longing for something else

and then i let the anger

and the smoke fill my lungs

i starved myself

and told her to run harder

you “weak bitch”

until she felt like she was flying

until she felt like superman

the girl who was

“too tall”

with “ugly teeth”

and “weird hair”

who doesn’t know how to love

herself

without letting it get to her head

who wants a new drawing

and body

and the personality of the kind of girl who doesn’t care

about these kinds of things

who is drawing a new picture

who is walking out of your room

and getting herself a cab home

who is tucking herself in

who is waking up

again.

    Magda Cychowski

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