We’ve been in a relationship for as long as I can remember.
She sleeps at the head of my bed, dragging me to the foot.
“You’re not good enough,” she says, taking off my blanket of hope in the cold of doubts.
She’s the reason I stand before broken mirrors hoping my reflection of a slimmer body is true;
never uttering a word in class, for I feel I belonged last.
She’s the reason I pause in the middle of conversations, for she’s always watching me.
She holds my hand to remind me how ugly I am.
I’ve tried to break our ties but she never leaves for long enough.
She says she owns me, roaming my mind like her home.
Many people say I inspire them, yet she’s the reason I never feel good enough.
She invites me to a party and promises to love me.
Yet she allows her family, depression and anxiety, to hurt me.
They make me hide in my room where no one can hear me
When I can’t stay inside to drown in tears, she lets me wear a fake smile she got for me
While holding a knife at my back, reminding how she’s got plans for me.
Tells me inside jokes about death and reminds me of my irrational fears
Makes me pretend to listen to music whenever a person comes near.
She’s the reason I’m never truly happy, even when I try to have fun.
In this mutual relationship, she gives me hurts and takes my smile.
Her name is insecurity; she told me she owns my heart.
Authored by Beulah Nimene
Featured picture by Broken Isn’t Bad