Burns

"I fought who I am inside

Until I wanted, I wanted to die

Instead of finding balance I found hatred

Consumed by failures and ignoring my own strengths 

With no lungs to breath 

I had almost lost everything." 

It burned so fucking much.
I squinted my eyes and threw what I had into the lateral raises,
My trainer stepping in to spot me for the last four.
"10... come on, two more, 11.... 12! Nice!"
I went to my knees immediately, hanging my shoulders, trying to alleviate the burn.
"The pieces are so pretty when you're all put together. It's a shame when they fall apart."
His words echoed in my mind
Searing.
I hadn't fallen apart, trust me, I've been unstable before
And it wasn't this time.
Just hurt.

We had talked
But it always ended in an argument.
He was done; I'm not what he's looking for.
I messed up, that much I'm positive of.
How can I be so selfish sometimes?
He gave me his heart and trust and I wasn't careful with it.
Never seemed to be able to be careful with anyone's
Busy hiding my own away.
Move on Eve. Move on.
God knows how many times I had begged myself to be normal.
Always too aloof and unemotional
Or falling apart at the seams.
"I want you to make me hurt. I don't want to be able to walk tomorrow."

Hurt it did.
Everything
I walked like a geriatric giraffe to the bathroom,
Wincing as the sweet soreness
Grew and burned away the stiffness.
Christmas Eve I had let the emotion take hold
Of the bar.
"Alright, we're going to do body weight bridges. Let's try to get 10."
I sat on the floor and rolled it towards me,
160 pounds forced to the sky.
Thrusting my hips up easily for the first five,
I began to struggle at six.
At nine I was gritting me teeth, but I wasn't giving up.
"I can do 12." I forced out.
It was a weak 12, but 12 none the less.

It seemed like I was always forcing myself to do something:
Starving, eating, crying, being happy, learning, doing, growing, changing, moving on.
Could it ever be enough?
Why was I always too much?

"Okay, this is the last set. You're only doing one rep."
"Why?"
"Well, dead lifts are very taxing on the central nervous system. You're using everything."
"How much?"
"You're looking at 140. It's going to be heavy."
I went into a crouch, placing my hands shoulder length apart,
Supimating my grip to take on the load.
Standing suddenly, knees slightly bent, wiggling my hips and breathing deeply in.
Exhale, completing the routine I had found myself accidentally doing before I began a set of dead lifts.
I crouched into position and breathed out as I tried to lift up.
Nothing.
Frustrated, I walked away for a second.
"Gotta concentrate. It's in here." He pointed to his temple.
I nodded, hands on my knees, staring down the cold metal on the floor.
"The hardest part is overcoming the ground."
A small grin played at my lips.
With a sudden stroke of still confidence, I looked up at him.
"It's not that heavy." I said,
Sure smile
And I knew in my heart that it wasn't.
Burst of exhale, bar sliding up my shins, over my knee, thrusting my hips out.
My legs took the burden, forcing it up in defiance of the struggle,
Letting it slowly down,
Thunking the ground in a loud display of triumph.
My trainer high fived me, I, basking in my success.

Those pieces haven't always been put together.
I can't tell you how many times I've sat in the corner of my bathroom floor crying.
I can't tell you how many times I've yelled into the silence of my cold car
Bundled to keep out the cold that seeps into your spirit.
I had been up and I had been down.
Seen and felt a lot of pain and yet also known joy.
I had held on far too long to some people
Broken trust
And not tried hard enough for others.
Being manipulative when angry was too much of an art for me
With words that cut and tore.
They trusted me.
I was never good at being honest with a boyfriend.
Made excuses for why I couldn't move forward.
The plight of being human.

I can't talk about my feelings because I hate them.
So I talk about the gym because I became emotionally dependent on it.
Feeling my chin, pulling at my stomach and cheeks,
Trying not to believe that I got fat.
I'm 160 pounds.
There was a day when that number made me cringe and pull at myself
Trying to find the zipper.
Now I'm more solid than I've ever been.
Muscular.
I remember when the holidays were something so scary and now I'm shoveling in plates of food.
More concerned if it's clean or not than the number of calories going in.
Fuel.
Worried about losing gains than losing.
We figured that my basal metabolic rate for a day, the amount of calories I need just laying horizontally awake, is 1500.
In order to maintain this muscle I need to eat 2462 calories a day.
That's 205 grams of protein
307 grams of carbs
and 46 grams of fat
In one day.
The capabilities of being a human astound me.
I've lived on 300 calories in one day, plus exercise
And on the other spectrum I've lifted my body weight.
The flexibility and perseverance of being human.

"I mourn the days that I wasted 

Trying to change what has been set 

Fighting against myself

Before I tear, tear out my eyes

I'll just admit they're part of me." 

"I hope you know I don't want it to be like this. I just think I'm doing the right thing. I am fighting for what I think is right. And I'm fighting so fucking hard."
"I know. I just want everything to be okay. I wasn't careful with your heart and I'm so sorry. I was afraid you were going to break mine an I broke it on my own."
"Sorry I overreacted."
"Thanks. It's okay. I'm sorry I can be so insensitive."
"I do love you. And I don't just say that."
"I know you do. You wouldn't be letting me stay in your life if you didn't. I've realized that this is not at all how you usually do things. And I love you. I mean that."
I wish I could hold on to him,
But you never grow if you're always lifting the same amount.