What?
What, as in what is it, or what caused it?
Maybe it was the DNA
Or things I loved that faded away
That made me this way.
Maybe it was a broken home
That was the only thing I’d ever known
And I remember daddy going out the door
Because mommy didn’t love him anymore
And I would watch him leave to work
Because that’s what he said, he just had to leave to work
But really he was just trying to make it work.
But I didn’t know any better
And I thought, “Hey, maybe he just likes the Florida weather”
As I stayed up north and grew up nervous because I wasn’t sure what daddy would look like the next time I’d see him.
That’s where, I guess where it all began,
But maybe it was beforehand
When I was only small
And I thought I had it all
So when I needed something I’d lock it up because
The key never ever was in my reach
And I’d think “Hey, someone has it worse than me.”
My voice was glued to the inside of my throat
And that was the thing I hated most
Because even though mom had never yelled at me once
I still felt like when I needed to get out of the bath that she’d get mad.
Mad, maybe that was me,
Maybe I was the mad one.
How?
Because when I went to a new school I wouldn’t want to talk
And while I walked
Down the hall
To see them all
These strangers that were now acquaintances who would laugh and cheer and gossip
And I wouldn’t want to open my lips.
I wouldn’t want to curl them into a smile
Because it wasn’t worth the while
To have them look at me like I didn’t belong
And that I was wrong
For smiling.
When was I not wrong, though?
When did I ever feel right?
When was there a time when the decision was clear
And there was no fear
Of the outcome
There was none
None that were right
Except when I wanted to give up the fight
Because I struggled at night
To even sleep another night
And the end was in sight
But I couldn’t do it right
God, why can’t I do anything right?
There was a girl
Who made all of that go away
And day after day I would find the time to see her
Because without that time I would lose my mind.
A girl
Who became my entire world
And a mind that felt healed
But band-aids will peel off
And what’s really underneath it all
Is a long, long fall
Back into the question of
Why?
Why did she leave me?
I didn’t know,
I never would know
What I did to make her leave.
I made everyone leave
Even though I tried
And tried
And tried
To keep ends tied
But, God, I mess everything up.
To go home and scribble
“I’m sorry”
On an old notebook
Over
And over
And over
Because the cycle never ends
And the only way to make amends
Is to take it out on myself instead
But I was too scared to break my skin
Because it might let death win
And that was something I was afraid of.
A fear of dying, a fear of living,
A fear of a gift that keeps on giving
Because if it gave too much I’d feel guilty
And feel the need to say
“I’m sorry.”
They would tell me not to.
Who?
No one specifically,
But the people who cared about me
Who I feared did not at all
The ones that I was afraid to call
When I needed help living
Because dad wasn’t calling much anymore
And he had a new girlfriend
Who I hadn’t heard of before,
And high school was new
And all I could do
Was sit through the thoughts
While my brain was in a drought
Thirsty for the word ‘hello’ when a peer approached me.
Where? Anywhere,
My stomach burned from nervousness
At the mall
And my palms would get sweaty
When at my friends’ houses
And my mind would race until I threw up
At my own home
God, what is wrong with me?
I don’t know.
I never know
And my worst fear is that I never will.
It’s not easy
To stop scratching the scabs on my arms
Or to breathe in and out
Or to not lose the feeling in my fingers and thumbs
Because even though I feel like I’m on fire
My body will go cold.
It’s not easy
And I can’t get over it no matter how many times I’m told
And I don’t know what’s got a hold of me
I should just get a lobotomy
To stop the thoughts inside of me
It’s not that easy.
Not easy to make friends
Or go out on my own
Or call the doctor on the phone
Because when she hangs up she might say to her friend,
“Hey, her voice sounded funny.”
And when I think about one comment
I think about the one from yesterday
That could’ve been directed at me
Or the one from last week
That could’ve been directed at me
Or the laugh from two years ago
That could’ve been directed at me.
It’s the ‘could haves' that make it worse
Because the fear of not knowing
Gets my boiling blood flowing
My fear starts growing
But it will never start showing
Because nobody cares.
Even though they might.
What?
What, as in what is it, or what caused it?
I don’t know the answer to either
But one day I might
And that would be nice.
