Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

They Read my Mail

They read my mail
It is the tipping point
It is the peak of the iceberg peering out into the North Sea
It is just a window into the vice that has been clasped around my throat for my entire life
They read my mail
What could they be checking for?
Why do they feel so entitled?
They read my mail
They open my packages
I watch them tear into envelopes addressed with my name staring in awkward silence
Like I am on trial for a sin I didn't mean to commit
I want to speak up
But I don't
I don't know why
I feel so weak and small
I thought I'd be stronger now
Strong enough to fight
Strong enough to get out
But I'm not
I don't
I can't
I won't
I just watch as they read my credit card statements and shift through my Amazon packages
They lecture me about money
They lecture me about bills and what I am not doing well enough
They read my mail
But they don't know anything about me
I take it
I take it
And I take it
One day I might just explode all over everything