Original works

[9]

[written in 2023]

I'm not disgusting; I'm not. I didn't choose the vial things that happened to me. They aren't my fault, and I can't change them. I'm just like you, I swear. I'm no different; there's nothing wrong with me; I don't need your help. You only aim to harm, and I don't need that and your poison in my arm. Like burning pages of a blank book, your words should mean nothing to me. Yet they're all I can think of now.

You only try to put me down like I'm a sick animal, like I'm a disease that can be cured. I was hurt, and you say I'm to blame. How could a child be to blame for such a thing? I couldn't even spell my name correctly, and yet I was to blame, and you tell me I'm the sick one? I'm not sick, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not. Just believe me, please; I've told you twice I'm not to blame. And I wouldn't wish this pain and suffering on anyone else, not even you.

You just don't understand, and you never will. I'm just a person who has felt things you won't ever feel. I'm not a freak, and there's nothing wrong with me; I'm normal. I'm a human and have a withered soul is all, and I can't fix it. I know you don't get it and think your words are like a grain of sand. But every grain of sand matters; the world needs each one.

I know you won't know how it feels, so I'll try telling you how the anxiety and feeling of filth slowly seep in and consume everything, how it feels when the words won't come out, how the years of silence hurt, how everything would hurt and sting, and how the bruising and fear of failing again feels. But I'm not a freak or wrong or disgusting, am I?..