this is me

After I throw up and self abuse, I'm going to bed.  And I'll wake up and do it again.  

Everything hurts, but my head the most.  Stomach next and heart close.

Skin crawling, I only want to like me.  Why can't I like me?  Why can't I like me?

Confidence exists in small places and small spaces...like our rain finding its way between the door and the frame...and then to be stopped.  Clouds following closely, making sure the smile is never totally genuine.

Broken and shattered.  Helpless and hurt.  Damaged.  But strong.  Heart of hope...dreamer.  Not sure how to get there, but I will.  This is me.