TW: Excessive Foul Language, mentions of knifes and cutting not related to sh

Why can’t I cut my own damn food

They gave me a sharper better knife

But it doesn’t matter

I still can’t cut my food

My wrists ache

My fingers throb

From just holding a knife

Why does it hurt so damn bad

At fourteen my mother should not have to ask

If I need her to cut my food

I try to put on my mask

But It just fucking breaks

I can’t get shit right

It never goes away

The pain chips down the ice

Till my true feelings are out on display

Why do my hands

Hurt so damn bad

I want to scream at my body

To do one thing right

Just one fucking thing

Just one

Why can’t I cut my own food

It’s embarrassing to sit there

Wincing in pain

Just trying to cut chicken

I want to yell at my hands

To fucking behave

But they don’t

They continuously ache

Every drag of the knife

I twist my wrists

And crack my fingers

No one likes the sound

Why would they?

Its not just this

But a pile, a list

Because my body is shit

And I can’t do one thing right

Just one fucking thing

There are so many reasons

I feel this way

Not that I should have to explain

But all people do is invalidate

People don’t understand

just how much I fucking suffer some days

Where I cry on the floor in pain

Shouting at my body

“please just be ok”

I can’t even eat

my favorite fucking ice cream flavor

Because if I did

It would make me feel

As if I was subjected to agony

My joints would hurt

And I wouldn’t sleep

Because I would have ingested

In one thing I can’t fucking eat

I have to sit in the shower

What normal teenager sits in the shower

But its because my body is shit

And I know it

But dammit

Why does it not ever get better

Why does it continue to hurt

Why can’t it fucking go away

But I will always circle back to

The fact of today

That I can barely cut chicken

That my body is shit

But most doctors say “ take more medicine”

Most people say I am exaggerating

So I guess all I can do is fucking cry