Barely. I take up too much space but I am barely here. Barely heard. Rarely seen. Because I take up too much space.
Just. Just. Just.
I must, I must, I must.
Too much. It’s too much. I’m too much.
I take up too much. Too much memory. Too much time. Too much space. Too much money.
I am dismissed. No heart to call home.
But I am here.
Defiantly here, in spite of my body, in spite of my fractured heart and mind, in spite of efforts to erase all of the above. My efforts, others’ efforts.
Goodbye, Mommy, Goodbye Daddy
I am leaving
for Camp Fatty
I’ll be good here
This I promise
Because otherwise I won’t be known as honest.
Be good. Be quiet. Hush. Don’t give him a reason to yell. Don’t give him a reason to throw. Don’t give him a reason to hit.
It doesn’t matter if he’s not mad, just disappointed. The sting is the same.
I make less noise when thrown than a smaller, more substantial object.
More mass yet less gravity. More mass and less obviously broken. More mass, more to swing, more to swing at.
Mom, what happened to your arm?
I don’t know, hon. What movie should we watch tonight?
Mom, what’s that red streak?
I don’t know, sugar. What would you like for lunch?
Mom, why are you crying?
I’m not, baby. Let’s build a new Spotify list, whaddaya think?
Oh Christ. What’s the matter with your mother now? Sigh. Ugh.
Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think first. I didn’t mean to see things all wrong.
I’m sorry. I’ll see myself out.