Give me back my broken parts.

That guy that I could never get, 'cause his girlfriend was pretty fit,
And everyone who knew her loved her so. 
And I made you leave her for me and now I'm feeling pretty mean,
But my mind has fucked me over more times than any man could ever know.

I'm becoming more aware that I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I do have a plan. But plans break me. I've lain myself out to dry in the hot sun of a routine life. I've brought nothing but two hands to a knife fight. I've concluded that my entire existence is dedicated to living in Seattle one day. To settle there for good. I don't know when and I'm not sure how old I'll be, but it's an elevated meaning to my unleavened life. I don't need to be married and I don't need to own a home. I have to satisfy my insatiable wanderlust before I can truly stay anywhere. Right now, my life is working my hands to the bone. I want money to move to Vancouver. I want money to move to Ireland and France and Australia. I want muscles and to look fit so I can at the very least appear strong. For my insides are not quite fortified.

I ride my bike everyday and I don't stop until the fibers in my thighs are burning smoke. I need to shed the visceral fat that clings to my frame. I need to do this so I can pull out all the things that cloud my brain. The toxic feelings of being lonely and worthless. Everything is a link in my body and my mind and I need to find the perfect balance.

I'm trying to fix my heart. I've treated it terribly for years. Energy drinks and alcohol, throwing up, mdma binges, starving, sleeping with boys I don't love, pining for boys who don't love me. I'm exercising every way I can. I want every beating cell, perfect and in sync. The arrhythmia inside is throwing off my mind. My thoughts are not in time and my steps have no real tempo.

I will never love a man 'cause love and pain go hand in hand.