Dating me will not be easy. 

I cannot even guarantee it will always be worth it. 

It is ugly. 

It is the uncontrollable crying while huddled on the bathroom floor behind locked doors. 

It is my puffy red face, eyes swollen shut the next morning. 

It is a decade long struggle with self-harm. 

It is cutting in places that aren’t my wrists, because I have found better places to hide it. 

It is the stinging shower when hot water rushes over my fresh wounds and washes away my tears. 

It is floods of embarrassment and broken promises that I won’t let myself cut again in a moment of exasperation. 

It is throwing away shaving razors, because bits of skin clog the 4-blades. 

It is a graveyard of slightly raised white scars along my wrists, hips, and ankles.

It is sleepless nights, because so many thoughts are rushing, swirling, and crashing around in my brain with no signs of stopping. 

It is panic attacks, barely being able to breathe, fighting for oxygen while my lungs are at odds and seek to suffocate me. 

It is anxious rage, where I cannot possibly quell the building frustration that inevitably explodes. 

It is exploding on you. 

It is throwing clothes out of the apartment door. 

It is punishing myself. 

It is hitting my head with closed fists and pulling out my hair. 

It is nervously picking and scraping at my scalp until it scabs, then letting it heal just so I can pick at the scabs again. 

It is crying for no reason. 

It is crying for every reason. 

It is making plans and then canceling them at the most inconvenient times.

It is shutting out all of my friends.

It is needing to be held. 

It is the frantic desperation when I need you to come back.  

It is shutting down.  

It is shame. 

It is the wall that I inevitably build up, because no one could possibly commit to my mess. 

It is having so many other symptoms that I can’t even write them all down. 

It is not asking you for your sympathy or forgiveness, but maybe your gentleness. 

But,

It is also hope. 

It is holding out for the better days, even when my low days are my darkest. 

It is hope that you will love and accept me for me, the real me.