they said: be seen and not heard. make your voice so small it withers and practice the art of concealing. be seen but never perceived. obfuscate. be an outline of a woman, a silhouette in mist, don't let them know you want. your wanting is your weakness, your wanting is your sin.
they said: people are not psychic and they cannot read your mind. you must communicate your feelings. you were taught manipulation but this isn't how you nourish the people you care about. use your words.
god, i am trying. i have spent so long swallowing myself and then reaching down my throat for the scraps that i don't trust my own ability to give the words shape. when you hide yourself away for so long, even you forget who the pieces total up to when brought back together. recovery is an act of violence, of breaking down and fashioning together, and there is nothing beautiful or easy about it. there is nothing palatable here, nothing digestible.
god, i am trying. i am pulling parts of myself from the back of my throat, i am digging them out from between my teeth, i am finding them hidden away beneath my tongue. all of these pieces i am trying to give to you, inviting you to watch as i cut and staple and solder them together into something understandable. i want so badly to be seen. can you make out the sharp edges now? can you see the dark circles under my eyes? the slant of my nose?
god, i am trying. i am working my jaw around a tongue that feels like leather, trying to form the right words for you. my mouth is dry and my lips are cracking but i am choking out syllables and sentences for you, definitions and descriptions. i am saying: this is me, please notice. i am saying: i am trying to be better, please be patient. i am saying: i need you so much closer, please don't walk away.