i don't remember who i was last night, let alone who i was five years ago, when i merely dappled in anxiety and depression was too abstract to touch. sometimes i miss the stretch of months where i didn't feel much. of course, when i lost one sense, another strengthened; i could see clearer as i watched my world fall apart. the fractures were more vivid, more detailed, more poignant. lust, a cardinal sin. enter wrath. voices cracking, shattering the mirage of a once-revered man. i learned to be careful who i canonized.

i stopped giving away even the smallest pieces of me: hobbies, habits, feelings. i bubble wrapped my body, except for my hands, i needed some skin to destroy. but i wasn't satisfied with the bloody fingers i'd had for ten years, so i moved on to my knuckles, then my shoulders, then my thighs. i wasn't sure if it was self-harm but i'd been doing it too long to quit, and i never did have the guts to cut. fifteen years now, but at least i'm back to only my fingers.

when she noticed my shoulders were healing, she smiled and said i was getting better. i recall smiling back but i don't think i told her the scars scared me. i don't remember not feeling fear, i'm scared to recover and i'm afraid to stay unstable.

is better a place or a feeling? sometimes it's her arms or the heat in my chest but neither last long enough to keep me warm during the night. better is a fleeting, finite thing. it is only permanent when i am far from it, like puddles on the highway on a humid afternoon.

i fear i'm an illusion, too. i have spent so long reflecting my emotions on tilted mirrors in order to create the perfect vision. even when i put down the glass and open my mouth and try to let the truth come out, i fail. maybe i'm hypnotized by the lies i've fed myself for years and i really am a weight on the world, or maybe they're the truth. maybe my life will serve as living proof that some people don't deserve to live, some people don't have any worth.

my therapist told me to use logic. use science to prove how i'm worthless. so i've started a pros and cons list, and it's halfway done. burden, waste of space, sloth. i've created a hypothesis as well as trials to run, and i'm nearly positive that my twisted logic is correct. when i'm like this, i don't remember my intellect. i don't remember when i believed my last affirming thought. all i know is i amount to all my peeled skin and the platelets i've forced to clot.