Loved

Rock-a-by. The sound of her muffled voice straight from her chest to my ear. "You Are My Sunshine." A little red mole. How I loved to touch her face and her skin.. and the way it seemed to be softer than I remembered every time. Her laugh. Sitting up and the way she'd bounce me on her knees singing songs and telling silly riddles. Her hair. Her hands. Her nose. I knew her. I had memorized every detail of her in those quiet, close-together moments. Once upon a time she was all I had. Who knew that moments of being so close would gradually and all at once become only a thought.. a vivid memory tinged with a sweet ache.

I have nothing to show for myself, yet I feel like I could explode with all that I have built up inside me. It's like this... I'm angry, but I forgive you. I'm so confused, but I understand. I'm happy, but I grieve for you. I'm sure, but I sometimes glance over my shoulder. I'm okay without you, but I miss you. I'm hungry, but I'm full. My legs are sore and tired, but I need to run. My wings are withered, but I am flying. I'm tethered to you, but we are detached. I long for a little box of you, one that has your smell. your skin. your voice. your hands. your lips. your pride in me. your acceptance. your love. So that I can have you. Because I need you. 

I want to explain it all to each of them. But I can't even explain it to myself. There are so many mes. And I've only begun to see glimpses of them each. There are new ones every day and I don't want to stuff them down anymore. I don't want to walk on the sidewalk. I want to risk running in the street. I want to feel the grass between my toes. I want to wander. I want to wonder. Why do I have to be sure? Why can't it be okay that I  just am where I am? I feel like I'm on my way.. doesn't that count for something? I don't want to stay the same. I want to always change. I want to learn. I want to sing. I want to play. I want to fly. I want time time time. And theres only so much. Why am I not trusted with my own time? One life is all I have. One life is all I need. And I can't take steps forward if you keep pulling me back. I am brave. And I am strong. When I look back at the places I've walked, I can't believe how much I've survived.. and thrived. And yet all the way I criticized myself. Making rules on top of rules on top of rules. I picked myself apart, and I let everyone else pick me apart too. I believed in the me that everyone said that I was. I looked to others to tell me who I was. I apologized for things I never did. I shriveled up and I hid under the table. Because it was safe there. They were proud there. The boat didn't rock. I didn't have anything to explain away. I wasn't lonely. I wasn't scared. I didn't have to be ashamed. I didn't need to worry.  I folded my hands in my lap. I brushed my hair. I manicured my nails. And all was well. But I couldn't stay there. I came out from under the table and began to wander. And here I am. Messy hair, polish chipped, and I didn't know that I could use my hands to create things. And I want more of what I've tasted. I can't believe that I went so long without tasting. Just eating and not tasting. And I wont keep surviving. I won't go on not standing up for me. The real me. And I won't keep pouring myself out into a nothingness hole. I can't go on giving and giving and getting nothing back. I'm worth more than that. And again with the tears. And small things break me and I can't hold myself together. I'm fighting to hold onto the bravery and the boldness. Fighting to hold in the tears. Don't let them see that you're weak. Don't let them see that you cry. Don't let them see how much you wish they would stay. Celebrate with you. Walk with you. And all the things I dreamed of begin to one by one slip away. Arms locked as I walk the walk in white. Her on the front row. Them by my side. No matter what. And they won't. And the dream has to be let go. Silly dream I guess. Maybe in another life.. another time I will matter. 

"..and yet she felt a rebellion against this good self which was too often called upon, was too often invited, to the detriment of other selves who were now like numerous wallflowers! The girl who wanted to laugh, to be carefree, to have a love all of her own, an integrated life, a rest from troubles. Secretly she had often dreamed of her other selves, the wild, the free, the natural, the capricious, the whimsical, the mischievous ones. But the constant demand for the good one was atrophying the others. But there are invitations which are like commands. She did not know how this good self had attained such prominence. She did not know how it had come to be born at all, for she considered it thrust upon her, not adopted by her. She felt much less good than she was expected to be. It gave her a feeling of treachery of deception. But they repeated obsessionally: You must be good. You must keep your dress clean. You must be kind, thank the lady, hide your pain if you fall, do not reach for anything you want, do not attract attention to yourself, do not be vain about the ribbon in your hair, efface yourself, be silent and modest, give up to your brothers the games that they want, curb your temper, do not talk too much, do not invent stories about things which never happened, be good or else you will not be loved. And when she was accused of any of these offenses, they turned away from her and she was denied the good-night or good-morning kiss which was essential to her happiness." -Anais Nin "The Four-Chambered Heart"

Be good or else you will not be loved.