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Y'know, I really hope I can pull off the cool mysterious deep writer persona. That'd be sick.

Message to Readers

I got a really nice peer review and did some grammar edits and took some suggestions. Is this better or worse...?

Midnight Annoyance

July 29, 2019


You suffocate me with every insufferable move you make. 
You wrap yourself around my lungs and squeeze like a boa constrictor. 

Never have I ever been enough. 
My hair not long enough,
my back not straight enough.

My voice is never feminine enough,
I'm not healthy enough,
I'm not pretty enough,
I'm not smart enough.

I never understand.

No A+ put a smile on your face. 
My skirt length concerns you more. 

You told me everything you do is for me. To better me.
That's a lie. 
You aren't making me better.
Do you see any improvement in me?
I have to strive to better myself, to be okay, for me.
I don't consider you. 

I'm sick
But that's "Not real" 
When have you been there?
Your own son had to step up in your place. 

One door away from me, 
yet it feels like millions of miles. 

I wanted you more than anything. 
But you stepped on my 9 year old heart, and she hasn't forgiven you yet.
You know how kids are. 

Your jokes don't lighten the mood.
I told you my hardest truth.
It broke me.
You listened and loved me.

Now I'm left wondering if you care, remember, told anyone.
I don't trust you.
You're my biggest regret.

Maybe it's my fault,
maybe it's yours.
I don't care.

I tried a million times and at this point, 
I'm out of stamina. 

You love me when you choose, or when it matches your motive. 
My patience is thinning. 

Growing up I cried and cried to be a boy. 
If only, then you would love me.
Cause mom said I was your only girl, you didn't know how to react to me. 
I figured we couldn't relate so you didn't want to do anything with me. 
You'd rather play "boy games" even though I knew all of them,
I played them with my brothers.
But you wouldn't encourage it in me.
You wouldn't play my interests either. 

If I were a boy would there still be a million and ten rules. 
You wouldn't care about my body, or manners or my hair or my voice or my friends. 
If only I was a boy. 

You love me, in your own way,
I just don't speak that language, 
and your ears fall deaf to my voice. 

Maybe I'm to quiet. 
I'm sorry I mumble.
Maybe I'm making up things to be spiteful of, but I'm really not spiteful.
I'm angry,
I'm sad,

You give and give of yourself. 
For the longest time I thought I had no right to feel how I felt towards you. 
I was angry with you.
But how could I be so ungrateful? 
That makes me the problem.

So maybe I'm living in delusion,
but you've been on my mind for years. 
I see your face everyday, and I hug you every night. 

When I say, "goodnight, love you"
I can't say, "I love you" 
Because you've turned it all into a chore. 
A rule.
I can't tell people I love them without feeling uncomfortable. 
Maybe I overthink it, but I reserve it all to be special.
To make sure I really mean it and feel it.
Because when you get shattered, love is all you have to glue the pieces back together. 

I know you love me, and I know I love you.
It's not become so much of a question like it was in the past. 
My new wave of teenage angst has brought up the question of "do you care?'

Because when I tried to talk to you, you talked over me.
When I told you my brothers friends were harassing me, you still let them come over. 
You told me to get over myself. 

You made me feel like my voice didn't matter to you.
Because you always listened respected and included my older brothers. 
Yes, they're older than me, but who's proved them self to be capable? 
Who let the cat crap on your bed? 

I try to communicate, but you always get defensive and yell. 
And I can't hold it together without crying. 
And I can't cry in front of people I'm not close to without feeling completely and utterly mortified with how pathetic I am.
So you can only imagine how small I feel when you make me cry. 

I don't care if I"m supposed to be able to cry in front of my dad. 
I don't care about any of the "supposed to's"
I don't.
All I care about, is fixing the problem.
How can you fix a problem that no one else can see, or cares to fix?

I've rambled and I've rambled.
The people are tired of hearing this story. 
At this point it's like crying over spilled ketchup.

I'm done.
This is all I have to say to you. 
If you have any questions, reread over and over and over,
and deeply thrust yourself into your imagination.
Pretend, for just 15 minutes, that you are me. 
Why do I think what I think?
Not everyone is a malicious bad guy, not even you. 
I hate that you're the best guy there ever was, yet the worst.


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  • July 29, 2019 - 2:44am (Now Viewing)

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