when i was 12, a boy gave me a tire.
it was a little piece of rubber that had been ripped off a bigger tire. he found it on the side of the road
right next to the playground. he thought i should have it. he meant nothing of it, but i liked him so i kept it. i stored it in my closet and forgot all about it.
when i was 13, a boy gave me a crown.
we were sitting in the grass when he told me
to close my eyes. it felt like forever, and i felt quite stupid, but i listened. i felt his fingers brush my hair, so briskly i mistook it for the wind. he patted me on the head and when i opened my eyes he was grinning. a crown of daisies he said proudly. we couldn't stop laughing. the intricate green twists and delicate petals formed a bright halo against my dark hair. i loved it so much that i pressed it into a journal. though the colors have faded and the stems have long loosened, it's still there.
when i was 14, a boy told me i was beautiful.
i'd never thought of myself as beautiful before.
it was the first time i'd ever heard it from someone who was not my parents or a family relative. i knew he meant it in a different way, and it scared me. i didn't know what to say or do so i said
thanks, you too.
when i was 15, a boy told me a secret.
he whispered it with a straightfaced solemn expression. it was like a deathbed confession. i gave him a part of me in return 'cause isn't that what you do when a boy says i love you?
i'm 16 now and i'm tired of the gifts. what good are gifts? i threw the tire out, the crown has withered, and the boy who called me beautiful is far away now.
the one with the confession stuck around, but i wish he didn't. out of all the gifts, i wish he'd just left me alone. i didn't know what love was, so i just kept giving in the hopes that it would be enough. it was never enough. all my vulnerabilities, insecurities, and fears- i gave him everything. all my love, my hopes, my dreams- i held back nothing. i gave him all these gifts in a letter etched in gold and he crumpled it up and ripped it to pieces because it wasn't sealed in silver. i don't miss him, but i wish he'd give me back what i'm missing.
i remember the boys in dreams painted gold, green, purple, and blue. i try to reach out, but they disappear like smoke whenever i get too close. i try to tell them take it all back, i don't want your presents but they can't hear me.
it seems i'm stuck with the gifts
and the burden of memory.
