Anger is something that is foreign to me.
I rarely get angry
because I was taught by the world
that anger isn’t pretty.
When I get angry,
I can’t speak.
I can’t think.
I physically get uncomfortable
because I am not familiar with the emotion.
I want to run
but I can’t run from myself.
I want to scream
but I can’t speak because my voice is still.
Anger is something that has erupted within me now,
because I only have one living grandparent
because I am single
because some of my family doesn’t approve of what I do.
But I have been told by my therapist
that anger is just the surface
and underneath is sadness.
That is the only way I can rationalize
Depression is a monster.
When I sleep,
it crawls out,
and stands at the foot of my bed
smiling with satisfaction
knowing that today it won.
But tomorrow I will be triumphant.
The monster will not win.
I woke up after the first night at your place.
It takes me a while to realize where I am.
I splash my face with water to wake up.
It’s funny I can never sleep well in a new place.
Something about the different noises or the lack of safety.
But I never feel unsafe in your arms
which is why I’m wide awake.
I see you struggling to
Batter flying everywhere and a tornado of ingredients all over the countertop
I smile and know I am home.
Sometimes I call my bed a cocoon.
It’s where I feel safe.
I can pull the comforter over my eyes,
and ignore the world
because sometimes my mind pulls me
into the depth of darkness.
That I can not escape.
Like I’m trapped in a cocoon
but instead of morphing into a better version of myself,
I revert back to the darkness.
I am fortune enough to know my grandparents.
To know who raised my parents to be who they are
I grew up my whole childhood knowing my grandparents
and having all four of them alive until I was 20.
Knowing how my grandparents met
and hearing about my grandfather’s time in war
and hearing about my great grandmother.
I have 200 years of family history on my father’s side
because I am fortune.
It bubbles up like a blister.
Growing bigger and bigger
wanting you attention.
Taunting your mind
with pessimistic voices.
When the blister finally pops,
it hits the walls,
coating it in negativity.
But now you can finally heal
and move on.
and I can’t think.
All I want to do is sleep
but I don’t want you to win today.
So I get up
and brace the day
with a crooked smile.
This might be weird but there are some things you should know.
Some things I bet he forgot to tell you.
Some things you should know before you are chained to a weight that might drag you down to the bluest part of the ocean.
1. He may seem sweet.
But really he is just wearing a mask. That will come off in pieces,
to where you don’t recognize him.
And he will judge you for your friends.
Because in his world
alcohol is something you buy at it’s cheapest
And if your friends don’t party like his,
he will remind you
Until you think you picked the wrong friends
and he is the only one left.
2. He may seem to care.
But really he just wants to fuck you.
He will mention his boner in public and make it seem like it is your problem.
That you need to take care of it
because you are his girlfriend
and in his eyes that is what you are there for.
3. He may be committed.
But really he is just scared of being alone.
To sit with his thoughts and accept that he may be blaming the world for his problems.
4. He may keep his promises.
But remember he promised me marriage.
5. He may love you.
But he has told that someone else.
And meant it.
I don’t wish you well.
I know that it sounds like I’m bitter because I am.
Because you cracked me
and I shattered like a mirror
giving me 7 years of bad luck.
I hope that when you reach for your cigarettes
you find a whole box of broken ones
so that it gives you the minor inconvenience of having to buy another box.
When it’s cold outside
and you are bundled up with her
wearing warm clothes,
I hope you step in a puddle.
Causing your socks to get soaked
and reminding you of my tears.
Today I am 17.
Born late so I’m the last of my friends to change out of the sweetness.
They all have cars but I’m still crawling.
Trying to run through the sludge but my legs get stuck like molasses.
And I think it’s normal to have thoughts of death.
That it’s a right of passage
when in reality
I haven’t named my illness
And I won’t for several years.
But today is my birthday
so will be happy
even if I have to carve the smile into my cheeks.