Behind the Mask

Rant: I Am A Tree

Why the fuck should I be the one standing next to the basket, the only one responsible for rebounds, shot blocks, all while guarding my own person? Is it because I am tall? Because you all think its so great being my height?

Why the fuck should I be the one responsible for my sibling's mistakes? Is it because I'm the oldest? Because you think that I have all the time in the world?

Why the fuck should I be the one that chases after you, desperate for someone to share my emotions and stress, even though you clearly don't given a single SHIT? Is it because I am a tall, old, and fucking depressive tree?

You can't say SHIT if you aren't in my shoes. A 14 foot, inside a size 13. 

You can't say SHIT if you aren't wearing a golden badge on your chest, weighing you down, until you've broken your back. 

You can't say SHIT if you haven't been truly DEPRESSED, but only use it to make your problems seem extravagant.

Everyone thinks that it's so fucking COOL to be tall. You think that I look down at all of you, laughing at your height. 

Everyone thinks that it's so fucking AWESOME to command your own siblings. You think with every word I say, they can just listen obediently. 

Everyone thinks that it's so fucking NORMAL to fall into "depression". You think that you can simply become depressed when someone calls you stupid once. 

What you don't fucking see is the fact that I am being USED, simply because I am tall.

What you don't fucking see is the fact that they don't fucking LISTEN, simply because I am a mere 2 years older than the next. 

What you don't fucking see is the fact that some people that listen to your complaints, while take MINE for granted, as shit, even when I am on the verge of suicide. 

So, don't tell me that I'm lucky for being a couple inches taller than you. 

So, don't tell me that I am not a good leader. 

So, don't tell me that I should just "come out of the hole". 

I'm suffering too. Probably much more than you. You can't just fucking tell me that I should block them off. You can't just fucking tell me to control them. You can't just fucking tell me to stop having depression, or treating mine as a passing cold. 

* * * * * * * *

I am a tree. 

Autumn brought my leaves down, all the pride in my life. All the things that lifted me up. All these leaves, I try to show you. But, you crumple them up, rip them to shreds, and say, "They aren't green enough."

Winter brought me cold, the winds being the haters and the people whom want to kill me. All the people that discouraged my growth. All the people that spit at my feet, poisoning me. But, I stand in the snow, battered with harsh words and not enough liquid affection, waiting out the storm. 

Spring brought me new leaves, different shadings. All the new weight, while still recovering from the numbness. All the unnecessary burden, all growing on me at once. But, I still raise my arms, deal with the weight, and hope that I am still alive, still producing something for society. 

Summer brought down my apples, rotten and limited. All the fruits, my shedding weaknesses, held on display for the world to see. All my fears, secrets, and the things I lack, compared to a flourishing lemon tree. But, I look forward to another season, even if it means that you chop off my arms so you can hang a swing. 

I am a tree, not a human.

My youth, innocent and with a head high in the clouds. Expectations that I will someday become a factory of fruits. 

My first harvest, mistakes one after another. Expectations that I can do better. 

My second harvest, intoxicating a person with acid. Expectations that will someday drop lemons instead of apples.

My thirteenth harvest, used to drinking poison, growing in poison, making poison, and taking in poisonous words. Expectations that I can just shrug it off, filter out water from blood and vomit. 

I am a tree. 

Used as a post for a swing that I can't ride. 

Used as a sponge to suck all poison that I can't digest. 

Used as a show prop that I can't speak in. 

I am a tree. 

Responsible for distracting a mass of ants.

Responsible for the health of the trees around me.

Responsible for the virus living inside of me.

I am a tree. 

Depressed from those who judge me.

Depressed from those who depend on me. 

Depressed from those who underestimate the pain inside of me.