Floating on Daydreams

(Dis)Belief

When I was a little girl, all my food was made with too much salt.

When I confronted my mom about it, she said, "It's so that you're not naive later on. 

You have to learn that not everyone means what they say, and if they're lying to you,

Then it's probably your fault."

At age 3, I learned to draw. It was my first love.

My art teacher at preschool saw my  passion.

She pulled me aside and asked how I already knew to draw realistically.

I told her that 'real' was the only thing I could fathom.

Age 6, and I had given up on humanity.

So many lies in the classroom, they haunted my sleep.

"My father fought a tiger once." "My momma knows everything."

I wanted to scream. I did. My parents were called to school. 

They were proud of me.

Age 8, and I didn't know who was lying anymore.

I took everything with a grain of salt, like I was taught.

And held on to what my mother told me before.

Age 14, bullies everywhere. I forgot my mom's lesson for the first time. 

They weren't lying, they assured me. The meant every word.

I took it as a sign.

I was vile, repulsive, and they were right.

Age 16, I found friends. But by then, I was a wreck.

My soul was cut up and bleeding and everyone was a threat.

They said they didn't understand, tried to force me to believe 

Every sugary word. But I wasn't naive.

Age 17, and you couldn't find a more confused little girl.

Compliments are rare and taken with a spoonful of salt.

Afraid of the world

Afraid of myself.

With people I care about asking for help.

How can I help? I see the world with grains of salt in everything beautiful.

I don't know what 'real' is any more.

I'm cold, confused, cornered and claustrophobic.

And I'm confined in the hell I've made for myself

Where the only truths are insults and hurtful accusations.

Nothing else.