Drugstore Perfume [Poetry]

elisabeth's reversal

elisabeth's reversal

march7twenty21

I've heard it's the first step of healing - almost like a reversal of grief. if you're finally fed up with all the injustices you thought were warranted, it means you're learning to love. it still feels like hell.

stuck in place and this time I know it. I can see what happened and who I became because of it. a shell... someone who had a place, someone who must keep that place, someone who must sacrifice everything at any cost to remain in that place. yearned so hard for affection I turned into what I despise the most.

there has never been control. now, it's clear. of course there are always things out of your control - what a sin - but oh well. the truer corruption grows in the illusion of control. that decision was mine.

that finally self awareness of just how many strings you're tied to, how dead your limbs have become. how you thought you were the one walking this whole time. one foot in front of the other because it is supposed to be that way. the blueprints were made ages ago, cemented in trauma (one of those things beyond control). deviation is not only punishment, it's permadeath.

but now I am no longer blind to the wounds, to the iron vise I've clung to for approval. permadeath doesn't seem that bad. not anymore. rather look like I'm going down in flames than building up to implosion. maybe it's just me.

the system will fight you back, and so will you, you who have been so ruined by horrible manipulation. some people thought it was right. most still do. how dare you want to be something more than a commodity? don't you know that's the most important part about you? useless and disgusting.

I've made plans. the dull ache of acceptance has broiled into a seething rage, burning up my insides. spitting fire and not regretting it; I didn't deserve any of it.

call me a traitor as I refuse the mantle. what a compliment! it took me too long to even try and begin overcoming this destiny that I thought was so set in stone, the shadows have cleared and a sledgehammer is waiting.

there will be grief, plenty of it. how much of myself does not actually belong to me? it's terrifying. removing and tearing out and starting over. it'll be absolutely raw. this wasteland holds so much promise. this desecration will end.

no more submission. rebellion? sure, if that's what you'd like to call it. I'll be too busy teaching myself how to be free to listen to petty grievances.

and if you're disappointed? you're the reason I'm dead.