when she was three and did something well,
she got a pat on the head.
a jolly laugh from her mother, a swing around the room from her father,
a feeling that she was doing alright.
everything that made her their little girl.
when she was seven and did something well,
she got a sticker from her teacher.
a hug from her mother, a kiss from her father,
a feeling that she could do anything.
everything that motivated her to do her best.
when she was twelve and did something well,
she got a comparison to her classmates.
a quick smile from her mother, a good job from her father,
a feeling that she wasn't meeting expectations.
everything that scared her when she closed her eyes.
when she was sixteen and did something well,
she got an "oh, i did better." from someone in the hall.
a blank stare from her mother, silence from her father because he was never around,
a feeling that she was just in the way.
everything that kept her eyes wet and her hands trembling.
by the time she was eighteen, she couldn't do anything well.
she got disappointed looks and bad grades,
a broken sob from her mother, a sense of betrayal from her father,
a feeling that she was never good enough.
everything that kept her up at night.
she gave herself her own rewards, beautiful bright red ribbons on her pale skin
and deep flower shaped gashes in her heart, hidden just out of sight.
she ate her favorite celebratory dessert, a whole bottle of hideous blue pills
that made her feel like ice cream used to.
she even made herself a bath,
soaking in rose petals and bubbles while letting her limbs float and her mind slip,
dirtying the bath water with things she no longer wanted.
when she was eighteen and she was broken just like she wanted to be,
she got a shattered heart left dusty in bloody bath water.
she got an absent father and a drunken mother,
a life she never imagined and a death she didn't want.
she was just happy she finally did something well.
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