In June,
Of 1998,
A baby was brought into this world,
Unknowing of the pain or hardship they would suffer in life.
How many lost loved ones,
Disappointments,
How many attempts of suicide.
How many pills would be scattered on their bathroom floor
Because they couldn't tell the difference between mental exhaustion and physical pain
Or how many times his family would put him down because of mental struggles that he couldn't name.
Sorry,
Her family.
Putting her down.
For things that *she* couldn't name.
In June,
Of 1999,
A child's mother tore them from their father,
Ripped them away like they were seams on a torn jacket.
Took him away from the one person he could look up to,
Placed him in the hands of someone unworthy who would destroy him.
Sorry. Her.
Who would destroy her.
In September of 2003,
His mother had a son with his abuser.
His step father.
His torturer.
They had a beautiful baby with blue eyes, blonde hair
And more mental issues than you can name off the top of your head.
In February of 2012
He tried to stab him,
The blue eyed demon came at him with a knife and carved away the face that he held so dear
He cut him open and allowed his secrets to fall to the floor.
Finally seeing his brother for who he was.
Not his sister.
August of 2013
He started high school.
His mother knew and insisted he wore a dress and put on make up.
Don't let them know you're different,
Pretend to be just like everyone else.
Be someone else and you'll make friends.
September of 2013,
He had a boyfriend.
Of course his boyfriend thought he was a she.
So his boyfriend called him his girlfriend.
He was just as bad as his step father.
If not worse.
Because what happens behind closed doors stays behind closed doors, right?
A freshman high schooler couldn't ever sexually abuse someone! They don't know how!
May of 2013,
She finally gained the courage to break up with him,
While trying to discover their own identity.
Who were they anymore?
He had spent so long pretending to be a girl he forgot his own soul.
June of 2013,
He dated a girl.
Most people called him a lesbian,
But he loved her.
For a time.
Until she also turned her back on him.
May 2014,
She convinced all of his friends to stop talking to him,
He tried to kill himself.
He still has the marks on his skin from when he jumped off the roof, or when he
"Accidentally" burned himself on the curling iron.
He had no one.
June 4th, 2015,
He was reunited with his dad.
The man he'd only seen twice a year his whole life, would now be within arms reach.
For a time.
July 2015,
His step mother calls him worthless.
His father starts doing drugs.
He blames himself.
August 2015,
He's the star of the play. Things seem okay. For now.
He remembers all his lines, holds them close to his heart.
His father comes to see him.
December, 2015.
He goes to the Philippines.
And is called weak when he has an anxiety attack.
Because Her family was kind enough to ask if he was a boy or a girl.
But because SHE was there he couldn't give them an answer.
June 2016,
She threatens to kick him out.
July 2016,
She threatens to kick him out.
August 2016,
He has a reason to be away from home.
For a long time he's blank. Can't remember much.
May 2017,
People stop talking to him again.
He cries himself to sleep.
Of course he knew this would happen.
He knew people would eventually distance themselves from him.
That he would eventually have no one.
June of 2017,
He moved in with his grandmother,
Who also think he is faking it.
That he's not really a boy.
Late February of 2018,
He gets his first job, and he's so excited that all he can do is cry and count the things that could go wrong.
He counts why he doesn't deserve this job and worries that he'll lose it.
May, 2018.
He visits his mother.
He does what he loves.
Goes to a festival.
And yes, he's misgendered. Again.
Destroyed from the inside out. Picked apart like he's something wrong. Like he's blank and dark and terrible.
July. 2018.
He's depressed. And he wishes he wasn't.
As years pass, he swears he's okay
And he pretends to be
And hopefully as years pass, he'll know that's not alright.
YOU ARE READING
Invisible Papercuts
PoesíaA small book of poems. Some can be very triggering. I write mostly free verse. If you don't like it, don't read it. All of these are fueled from conversations I've had or things I've felt. In Honor of my Uncle.
