if i could sit down with my five year old self,

i’d ask him what he wants to be when he grows up

and after a silence, he’d ask me who i was

and i’d try to explain, i’m him, but no longer him

no longer a him at all, rather

the princess he wished he could be

i think he’d still be dissapointed

if i could sit down with my ten year old self,

i’d ask him for his favorite color, or a hobby or two

and he’d ask about the scars, or how i lost the weight

and i’d give him a look, that told him to be careful

and ask him if he thought that pain was worth it,

a body worth being cared for

i think he’d be quiet, but his mind would say yes

if i could sit down with my fifteen year old self,

i’d ask him if he knew what love felt like

and he, smarter than i am now, perhaps, would turn away

and ask where on the line from then to now,

i myself had forgotten,

and i’d tell him i wasn’t sure i ever really knew

if i could sit down with my twenty year old self,

i’d ask them how it had gotten to this point

i am unsure if i would recieve a response at all

but still, a lifeless glare reminds

of all the days i said i couldn’t survive

and still, my feet are standing now