01.27.2010

Disappointment.

 

I heard the phone ring and I cringe. I know its you. You call everyday to complain about my newest disappointment. You act like I should care. Pity for you to know that I don’t. You act like I should care that I’ve done everything wrong. Because raising your child, doing your laundry, your dishes, protecting your son from his own father; that was all wrong. Because hanging out with people who make me happy, who love me for me, is wrong. Living away from you for the last year of your tyranny is wrong. You act like all mothers should know what’s best for their child. Let me inform you, dearest mother, that not all mothers deserve the mother of the year award. I refuse to let you run and ruin my life any longer. To acknowledge the fact you think you’re smarter than me. I may not know everything about this world we’re living in but I’ll be damned if I suffer from your hand any longer.

 

Exhaustion.

 

I see you online and I think about going invisible. But you know me too well and would see through the disguise. I wait and watch for your window to pop up. For you to talk down to me like you always do. To make me feel worthless and ignorant. You sign offline, and I can breathe. I go back to my reading and out of the corner of my eye; I see a window pop up. Its you, coming to rub in the fact your life is more important than mine. You press all the right buttons to make me despise myself. You mention my family and how they’re not important. Stop. I feel the anger rising in me, like it’s never done before. Instead of responding to your insults with “I know” as always, I do something unexpected. I send everything I’ve ever felt to you and sign off, leaving you to think your actions through. I feel accomplished for the first time in ages.

 

Fear.

 

I look in the mirror and think that i'm not good enough. My hairs curly, my eyes aren’t green enough, my cheeks are chubby and i'm too heavy. No one would want this. I play with men’s hearts, the way they’ve played with mine. I have no regard for their feelings and I feel guilty for it. I think I fall in love and I know that its just obsession. I want to consume a heart, feel its burn inside me. I want to feel love, know that I’m safe. I need the security but fear I’ll never have it. I look for more men to satisfy the urges and the hunger inside of me. But at the end of the day, the beginning of night, I know in my heart that nothings right.

 

Strength.

 

It’s obvious I don’t have much of it, the way that I talk about myself. It’s as if I’m alone in this world. Why can't I just be thankful for what I have before me? Friends that would do anything for me; a little brother who loves me; Grandma still being alive… Clothes, food, heat. You know the drill. I'm talented, but to me it is hidden because I refuse to believe in it. I've been told too long that I'm worth nothing, that I deserve nothing. I don’t have much fight left in me but I don’t have the courage to kill myself either, so I'm doomed to move on. I listen to those that would pull me down rather than bring me up. But, I must have some strength, because I'm still here. …I'm still here.

 

Life.

 

Maybe it was the T.V. that I should’ve turned off earlier in my childhood. Maybe it was the music; possibly the magazines that I was enthralled with in my early teens. They all told me I wasn’t pretty enough, skinny enough, funny enough. They idealized a way of life that for most people just isn’t possible. The human race is far from perfect. But in life there are little miracles that sometimes make it worth it. I was one once; my mother’s miracle. Too bad she doesn’t act like it. But just as I was a miracle brought into some ones life to do good, some one will come for me. Maybe I'm not ready for them, there’s always room to grow up a little bit; or maybe it’s them who isn’t ready for me, because when you tell me you love me, you better mean it. I deserve that, not all those flimsy wash-ups that come around to pretend. I want a REAL man. Are you ready? Can you handle all of me?