Why I keep falling in love

I do it because, like all girls, I want to feel alive.
And because I know I will never pull off black-lipstick torn-tights emo-cutter girl.
But like her, I do it because I want to see myself bleed.
I want to feel the power of making my own experience that way.
I want the rush of hoping someone will walk in on me to help,
And also for the realization that no one will.
I do it for the omnipotent feeling I get when I mop up my own mess.
I do it for the pain, because it is better than numb.
And for the inevitable sweet seductive endorphin rush that follows.
I do it because I am pretty sure there is a better way,
but while I’m figuring that out, I do it for the scars,
careful notches on my imaginary bedpost marking time.
Sometimes I wish I could do it without forming scars
— I already have so many–
but then I remind myself that I have the tools to get through those scars,
so I just keep doing it.
I do it because I’m a spirit being choosing to have this corporeal experience,
and what’s the point of embodying if not to experience body
– touch, pain, heart-beat quickening, stomach-curling,
glorious face-flush rush of head-spinning,
eyes seeing inside the truth.


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