A Grave Is Only For The Dead

Poems of letting go of selfhate and getting better from both the struggles of living and my mental illnesses.

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2. "No"

My first word was ”no”
When I was younger, my response to everything was no.
I could rip out this word from my throat time after time and I was not afraid of it burning up inside me after it came out.
As I got older I lost this. I lost this control over what happened to me as the “no” got suppressed under people telling me that this “No” I wanted to say was not true and that I wanted that, and that my “Yes” became silent but they acted like they heard it because I was never asked if “no” was stuck in my throat when I didn’t say a thing.
I never wanted to be touched when I was drunk, but how do you learn yourself all over that “no” is no longer there and you have to scream and cry for someone to let go of you because they had dragged you to their bedroom hearing “yes” in your “no”’s.  Does my body scream yes to you just because my proportions are a woman’s and I am born as a girl. Why is my “no” less meaningful because I am wearing a dress.  I want to rip up my skin and let all the “no”’s I’ve kept silent, out. I want to choke you on a 10 page essay about why “no” is valid and why silence is not a yes.
I am teaching myself that it is not I who’s wrong when I scream out “no” and gets called a prude. It is the person who always expects a yes. It is the person who will tell you that of course you mean yes and that you have no right to push anyone away from your body because – you’re a woman.
Your body is not a yes and your body is not an invitation. My first word was “no” and I will learn to be like my 5 year old self again. I will learn to stumble trough life, a little bruised and confused and I will learn to not be fucking sorry, and to say “no” when the word touches my tongue.
I will say no. 

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