terrifiedofbeingseen

[terrifiedofbeingseen]

ghosts aren’t real

let me mourn. let me mourn the ambition and part of me that used to freely love. let me mourn all the parts of myself that were never able to live past age 10. let me mourn my own body, the parts i had ripped away from me the moment i entered third grade, the once clean skin ending up bruised and beaten, the once-silent mind now filled with the intensity of your screams. let me mourn my virginity and seeking comfort in the arms of boys who didn’t care. let me mourn the shame you had imparted on me as a woman for being a woman. my stomach too big, my nose too flat, my skin too tan. you had taught me that my femininity is a curse; that womanhood was a curse, if the woman was not perfect. 

let them clean the mess left behind of my corpse. i will continue on in a place much calmer than the chaos that used to be my body. i will haunt this home through memories and grim reminders. let my decaying stench live in the floorboards, the smell of rot ruining every meal. there will be kitchen knives hidden away, bloodstains permanent on the sheets i’ve slept in; untouched whisks, baking supplies left unused and half-open. they will learn to hide the guns away, learn to keep their tongues dull and mouths shut. finally, they will learn to be better. there will be no more screaming, no more sobbing. at least, none of mine.

my bedroom will be as i had left it. you will not dare move the only safe haven i have claimed in this godforsaken home. this will be mine now and forever, even as i pass on. you will never get rid of me now. all the ugly parts of me will curse this place you call home. all the horrid pieces you so deeply wanted to remove will meld themselves and seep into the crevices of everything that exists here. you cannot escape now.  no amount of cleaning would remove the dirt i leave behind. the guilt will be overwhelming, and you must bear the pains you gave to me as my mother. know that this is your fault. you cannot gaslight me when i’m dead. i don’t care what happens to you anymore. i hope you never recover. fuck you. 

//ghosts aren’t real but i hope the guilt doesn’t let you sleep all the same