Marks

Today I want to be nicer
I want to see how much I hurt me
My inner voice should be kept in line
One pen to track my self judgments
I’ll try to mark every bad thought on my arm, if I am able to
One, I guess I am able

Today I got ready to go outside
I want to keep hiding in the safety of my bed
My power isn’t strong enough to want anything
Two hours pass before I move
I count twenty-something marks on my arm
28 of them, and I’m not even dressed.

Today I put my coat on
I planned to go outside but the mirror version of me looks weird
My hair is off and my face is not pretty and why does he look so blugh.
Eight outfits later I keep eyeing color as the possible culprit
I think eventually that it logically just must be me
41

Today I walked on the street, later than I had planned, and people looked
I know I must look weird, and whilst checking in car windows I wonder if I shaved equally
My standing out can only be oddity
The clothes, my walk, my face, my all. The stripes, in incremental numbers
I slowly blacken my arm.
62

Today friends and observant strangers ask me about the marks on my arm
I tell them honestly that I want to be more honest to myself
My self detrimental experiment scares most, but some stay
3 people out of the great total of them do not walk away politely
“I’m going to try it as well”, says one, “but i’m not so focused as you clearly are”
I put the first stripe on his arm.

Today I tested something interesting
I put I mark on my arm every single time I noticed
My thoughts comparing or criticising or judging myself
Ninety-four small black stripes trail on my arm
I should have just used a piece of paper, that would have been smarter
Ninety-five

Today I sit on the edge of my bed
I’m writing this report in my diary
My findings are that I judge too much, as expected.
A Hundred black thoughts aimed to break my spirit at a snail pace
I’m ever unable to dodge them, because I am the one shooting
A Hundred

Tonight, I lie in bed I remember that woman outside
I was just walking normally, face to the ground
My jacket caught her attention
One second and no effort, to stop me and say “Your jacket looks nice”
I feel good remembering and agree, “My jacket looks good on me.”
I wet my finger and smile while I bring it to my arm.
Ninety-nine