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.