The Words I Could Never Say

I Tell Her(Not a Poem)

I’ve been in a really weird mood this week. I think it all started when I woke up Saturday morning to hear my mom on the phone to my grandma saying things about me. Saying this that made me upset. I silently argued every point she made, all while tears streamed down my face, as I gasp for air softly, trying to still pretend to be asleep laying in my bed rolling to my side. I tell her the things I know I need to in order to get better, to feel relieved. I tell her I’m tired of living the life I am. I tell her I’ve been sad since the middle of summer. I tell her I cry myself to sleep. I tell her I think about what would happen if I was just not here, if I was just gone. I tell her that I would never hurt myself because it’s pointless, the pain in my heart will never leave anyway.  I tell her that when I get a cut for the scrapping of paper I think of how people cut to get rid of the pain they feel, and I say that the cuts on my skin that occur naturally don’t take away any pain. I tell her I would never hurt or kill myself. I tell her that I’m tired of not having someone next to me, fighting for me, with me. I tell her that I get sad and no one notices. I tell her I am done with living like this. I tell her that I feel so alone that it hurts. I tell her that YouTube is there and that I know that they will never met me, but they care more than I feel others in my real life do. I tell her that she hasn’t noticed me slipping down the slope. I tell her that this isn’t normal for teenagers to feel like this. I tell her that sometimes I know no one loves me. I tell her I hide in my room so I can’t get hurt. I tell her that I hide my feelings so she isn’t sad that another daughter is resenting having to get up and face the world because she is so sad she doesn’t feel the need to. I tell her that I’m happy my sister is doing well, but it’s only because all the pressure is put on me. I tell her that she makes me sad. I tell her that I feel like everyone secretly dislikes me. I point out that she even has secret talks with my grandma about me, complaining, all while I’m asleep. I tell her I know I am disconnected from everyone. That everyone, but me, has someone, anyone. I point out that she has my grandma, that my sister has her friend. I tell her my friends do so many things and have some many other friends as well, and I have just have them, who all have better options.  They go into stories about times they hung out not once, but dozens of times. Or the inside jokes that they have or things they did that I was never even asked to go to. I don’t have anyone, I tell her. I tell her that I AM unloved.  I tell her that I am done with living. I tell this to her in between my tears and gasps for air, only she is just chatting about me to my grandma. And when she finally comes into my room, after not hearing a word of my speech, my cry for help. It’s an hour since I had woken up, only twenty minutes after I pleaded silently for her help, that she came in and didn’t notice the wet spots on my nightgown, on the pillow. Or my dried tears on my cheeks. I silently added that she is turning a blind eye to me, just like everyone else. She tells me she and my sister will be back shortly and I am to get up. And when they are back, I’m dressed, and surprisingly filled with relief.  I only realize now, on Thursday, that I thought she somehow knew what I had said. That that is the reason I felt oddly happy, because I thought someone anyone knew. I realize now that no one does. I never told. I feel myself falling back into sadness as it grips my ankles pulling me down slowly. I tell no one, because I have no one.