All my life there’s one thing that stuck,
the concept of making myself small.
When I was little it was a defense against the
a way to blend into the wall.
All I wanted was to be small,
I would tense and shift,
cutting away the parts of me that didn’t fit.
Small enough not to pull attention,
small enough not to disrupt,
small enough not to be a bother,
but it seemed small was just never enough.
Now that I am older I thought that it had
but I realized that I had just shifted.
It defends me from me instead of the world,
and it seems that to this I am addicted.
The theory is still the same,
if I make myself small enough,
maybe it won’t matter,
but there’s always just too much.
I wan to curl into a ball,
I’ll stay awake til’ dawn.
Fold into myself,
til’ all of me is gone.
I want to hide in my own sin,
tear away the unwanted parts.
Break all of my bones,
drown myself in my own blood.
So when I don’t know what else to do,
I retreat back to my old defense.
I try to make myself small,
so I fold and curl and tense.
If you ever see me curled up now,
please don’t worry or dread,
it’s simply me trying to cope,
with the voices in my head…