Sometimes you're 21, and you can't remember
the last time your mother smacked anything against
your bare back. But everything inside still hurts,
as if she never stopped.
Sometimes you're 21, with absolutely nothing
to come home to but a feeling of failure,
walls that stare at you and say you're
not enough and your light don't shine enough here.
Sometimes you're 21,
and you're 8 months shy from moving
to another county, and all you can
think about is how much time you
spent dying, just by waiting for this.
Sometimes you're 21, and you
have nothing and everything.
Which is both freeing and terrifying.
Sometimes you're 21, and you
can't forgive yourself, and you want to die and you cry yourself to sleep every night, and
in the morning you walk
into your work place
and you're still the one that makes
everyone laugh.
