I took all of it out.
All the things that were surplus to requirements.
All of the little bits and pieces that after a while you don’t notice are missing.
I took them out.
I took out affection. Hugging. Talking. Dating. Going places and talking about things that weren’t sex.
I flensed my self down to bone.
To hey, let’s fuck, that was fun, see ya.
Still not enough.
When all you think you need is breathing
When that is a luxury
When you are nothing but the brittle bones.
The bare minimum.
And if you have nothing then the loss is less, right?
Because what is there to lose?
Even at my most minimal I am not enough. Even at my lowest maintenance? My most simple, my minimalist movement. I never spoke. I never cried. I never needed anything. And still…
Be more fucking congruent.
What is wrong with me?