Un-Becoming

How do we un-become ourselves?

Strength is woven into our skin

From the first time

Our mother said “beauty hurts.”

And how do we forget what she created

How do we even know who we really are?

Braid after braid,

She repeated it,

“Beauty hurts”

And she warned us that

Love hurts,

And people hurt.

Things hurt,

And feelings hurt.

Everything fucking hurts,

But don’t forget to give it your all,

And “All men are the same”

But one day you’ll find the one

That’s where we begin to lose ourselves,

And our vulnerability dies,

As we learn to apply perfectly winged eyeliner.

Our trust for the world dies

When we learn when and where to wear a skirt,

And our happiness dies

As we pretend to be nice

Because we’re afraid of being

The Bitch that nobody likes.

We give the world rights to our body,

And we do not dare to be too sexy,

Or too fat, too pretty or too ugly.

We can’t afford to not please

“We only know how to exist when we are wanted.”

Yet, the question in my mother’s eyes remains

“How did you un-become yourself?”

When I had to open myself by hand

And dissect all the doubts and secrets

She had planted on me.

When I bled and bled

On the bathroom floor,

Begging for mercy,

Begging for the voices to stop yelling his name,

When I asked myself to stop, and I couldn’t.

The question isn’t how did I un- become?

The question is why do I become and un-become

With the phases of the moon?

And the real question is

“How dare you question my sanity?”

When I had to build it on my own.