my now is not my forever

xi. please forgive me

i'm sorry i took everything from you.
food and sweets were gone
and all you did was cry
in the bathroom
in the dark
alone.

i'm sorry i said such mean things.
you were just growing
and i know you weren't used to it.
but i'll take my opportunity to say
you look beautiful
without having to endure
such discomfort in your stomach.

i'm sorry i broke you
and made you who you are
so many years down the road.
being so sick isn't worth it.
i hope you can forgive me.
but i am you
and you are me
and all i can do is try to fix what i broke.
glue our stomach back together
and stop doing math all the time.

i'm sorry i took away your childhood.
i hope i'm doing enough to bring you back.

xii. i'm jealous of mama's girls

hold me
like a baby.
that's what you call me.

love me
how i want
when i'm crying
over my mom's hardendness.

the beat
of you heart
is a metronome
for my erratic thoughts.

i wish
my own mom
was nurturing like you.

at least
she's glad i found
someone who could replace her.
someone with a heart less like ice.

xiii. why does this happen every month?

i've stopped feeling like myself.
my chest is dark in the early evening
even though the sun still glows in my window.
my fingertips are cold
and my stomach hurts.
my head doesn't feel like home.

i just want to go back
to my reputation of a joy to be around.
i hate when i wake up
and my first thoughts are violent
or asking when i get to go to bed again.
my hair is greasy and my bed is sour.
just let me shower so i can be myself again.

xiv. i watch preschool shows to find life lessons my mom never taught me

night falls upon the rings around my eyes.
i cradle my head on a polka dot pillow case.
i used to have nightmares
the ones where you wake up screaming
and can't go to bed again.
shark attacks, shadows, not being able to run
without tripping.

my mom used to tell me
each dot on my pillow
was a happy thought.
yo gabba gabba taught
me to think happy thoughts.

as i got older the dreams changed.
i wake up silently,
a mark in my bedsheet of my body
inked in sweat.
the brightly colored circles
grow teeth and sink into my head
and my back shivers when its time to go to bed.

my mom used to tell me
i'm difficult
and to go to bed because i'm depressed.
yo gabba gabba didn't teach me
what to do when my mom stopped telling me
to think happy thoughts.

xv. five year plan

"what's your five year plan?"
i couldn't answer.
my life was spent making it through
each week. what kind of joke
was thinking about five years?
the thing people don't tell you
about growing up with a mom like mine
is the present is all you know
and the past influences all you do.
there is nothing like living in the present
but not when you call it by its uglier name:
survival.

but now i think
i think i'd like to have my own life.
live in an a-frame house in the mountain towns
of idaho. away from the bustle of california.
i'd like to work a job, something i like doing
and feel productive instead of rotting away in my room.
i want to cook homely meals for my love
and end off the day nestled into his neck.
we won't need a heater. i won't need to clench my jaw.
i won't need to tiptoe in the house.
my five year plan is to live
not just survive.