she’s//all the//therapy//i’ve ever needed
at this age i find myself full of polluted ideas
and watered down philosphy from my favorite poets
but this is the contentment stage because before all of this
i found mysef at age thirteen listening to bands no one has ever heard of
typing the lyrics out and printing them on pristine paper which i folded neatly
tucking into the pocket of my now too small jeans.
before all of this i found myself at age fourteen sucking in breaths
because the world had seen fit to deprive me of oxyegn
and i found myself using all the right sources
to get all the wrong answers
as i tried to untangle what was happening to me.
but even before my anger was furnace
and before i learned not to trust boys with sharp smiles
i first learned that i was a girl
and by being a girl i was suddenly reduced to a low status
with my body no longer becoming my own with each stroke of a mascara wand
that i believed held the magic to make me beautiful.
and at this moment in time i understand
how our bodies can contain so much water
and how some of the prettiest things in the universe
can never orbit too close
and most importantly i know that out of all the events that have happened to me
all of the scars and dictionary words i know
my most treasured possession is the letter ‘i’
because that is what has stayed for the entirety of my life
when people changed and left me
i wish us back to//when we used to//hunt for clothes//at the mall//counting our pennies//down to the cent//guessing on the tax cost//before coming up short//laughing at full pockets//at ragged old jeans//we’d spend hours//in the bookstore//thumbing through//e.e. cummings//and edgar allen poe//like they were//the very oxygen//that was keeping us//alive.
i just don’t get it. i don’t get how we can still make each other happy when we are the way we are. i don’t understand how we can laugh and laugh until our sides ache but then i find myself falling apart. how you find yourself falling apart. i don’t understand that when i’m curled up crying i don’t text you. i don’t call you. because i’ve come to understand that you won’t answer. you don’t need to answer. you say that your phone died or that you asleep. i day it’s ok. and i sound mistrustful but that is because my trust has been shattered so many times that it’s barely there. and i sound clingy but when i feel jagged edges of all my insecurities breaking through my skin, i want you. and if i hadn’t convinced myself years ago that i didn’t need anyone but myself, i would say that i need you. i know you are tired of me hot and cold. i know you are tired of how I’m just not the same girl you met in that french class with your green dress and jacket. and you know what? i’m tired too. i’m tired of the nights i spend without sleep and the days i spend building people up while i’m breaking. on Monday things will be normal again. we will ignore the message i sent and we will ignore the underlying truth that you are leaving me. and i am leaving you. and it scares me so so much to think that out of all the people i have met, i think you could be the one i need. but we both know you don’t need me. we don’t have long conversations anymore. you’re too busy. we don’t sent pictures with funny captions or attempt to plan anymore. i think deep deep inside we both know that our friendship has become a habit and we just don’t care enough to break it. you didn’t steal my skittles anymore, that’s not how the story goes. i gave you a piece of my heart willingly, but now i want it back. we both know i’m selfish.