Poetry

I'm Not Unfine Anymore

Why are you depressed?

You have no reason to be. You have a home. You have food, and you have me.

You have a father and siblings and a million reasons to be happy. So why make me bitter with your tears? Why remind me of my past years? Why make me question my parenting and the love I've given you? Was it not enough?

I've tried so hard to keep you sane and I've torn myself apart to make you who you are. You're supposed to be happy. You're supposed to be perfect. You're supposed to love me back with all your heart and love your life more.

I've suffered more. I've suffered from a younger age and held myself strong beyond what I thought punishment from God's rage. Just pray.

Pray that the sadness isn't a punishment from this being. Pray that my love will keep you from seeing what this world truly is.

So why. Why do you cry to me and say, "I'm sorry"? Just fix it. Make it go away. Stop being depressed and sad because a therapist will say the same thing I have. They'll tell you to stop. To stop and count your blessings.
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As if I haven't already counted. I've counted them like people do sheep before they sleep. I've cried and seen the world before they saw me and I've felt.

I've felt the bitter betrayal of lost friendships before they've ended and I've known what my fate was before high school ended. Temporary friends. Life peaking at Graduation.

Crying because I saw it all. I saw how I could lose control when I knew the love of my mother wasn't enough to keep me grounded. She tried so hard so I could look at her and smile, and say, "I did it. I made it. For you. Don't think about your past. Just look at me. I'm strong and healthy and fine. I'm okay." That's all you wanted to hear isn't it? And I failed. For a while, I wasn't what you wanted me to be, so it was my turn.

My turn to jump at the chance to see you smile and say, "You did it. You're okay. You're fine."

And that's what I want to be for the rest of my life... Fine.

It's what I've tried to be every day since I felt her pride just watching me smile. A smile that she didn't control, but she made happen, by being who she is.

And some don't have that luck. They don't have someone to tell them what they've got. They don't have someone pushing them to be fine. They have the opposite. They have memories of self-hatred from when something happened that made them change. Within or outside the boundaries of rape, solitude, and cutting, they fight. They fight with all their might to not give up, and yet they crumble like a rotting tree, turning to debris after all that weathered fighting. They have someone tearing them down and saying, "You won't make it. You aren't worth it. You aren't enough." And the one that hurts the worst when that person loves you is, "You disappoint me."

Those words make them appear as if they've fallen in a moving crowd and no one heard, or cares enough to check what the hell they just stepped on.

They don't care, but she does. So find your luck. Find that person, but don't search for someone else, look within yourself. You are that person that can keep you grounded and keep you sane. Look within yourself and say, "I am okay. I am fine." And say it until it's true, because that blade against your skin will never hurt worse than the words that pierce your heart and brain, so make sure the words affecting you are your own.

Be okay. Be your own hero. You're the person to keep you sane and you can always trust yourself to say the right thing if you know what you want to hear.

Be fine...