More thoughts on paper

I've never really had a good relationship with my mother, at least not through my middle and high school years. We use to be close, or as close as a mother and daughter could be in elementary school. I went with my mother everywhere; church, choir rehearsal, to meetings, the store, and sometimes to work. I loved being with my mom because she made me feel important, always giving me little tasks to do. I never thought we would "grow apart" or that I would grow apart from her. She influenced me so much that I wanted to be just like her when I got older. But one day all that changed when I got what should have been the most heart-breaking news that I would ever get, yet I didn't quite understand it; my mother had cancer, Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, stage four. At the time I had no clue what cancer was, and I don't remember anyone really trying to explain it to me. Although I was a curious child, I didn't ask any questions, I just accepted it like I did most things. Once my mother started treatment things got worse very fast. Even though she survived this ordeal and her cancer went into remission that next summer, afterwards I felt like I'd lost my mother during her sickness.

My mother and I have had a very rough relationship ever since her battle with cancer. I'm not sure what happened but for a while I blamed myself. I thought maybe I wasn't there for her during her sickness enough. I felt like I should have sat by her side and talked to her, comforted her, tried to be her friend. But I have never been one to express my true emotions verbally, so while my mother was sick I kept my feelings bottled up inside and went about life regularly, as if nothing was wrong. People would always ask me how my mother was doing at school and wherever else I went and I would always say fine, as if I was trying to convince myself that she was fine. In my mind though she was fine, I had very strong faith when I was younger and I knew God would bring her through this ordeal, because there is no way he would take two mothers away from me. I tried to appear tough on the outside, but it really was eating me up on the inside, but I even tried to hide it from myself so when people asked how I was doing, I said "great" with a smile, as if I was trying to convince myself of that too.

When my mother was better and went back to work, things changed. She was no longer working at the high school and middle school she worked at before she was now working at the elementary school I graduated from that year. Everything seemed to have gone downhill. My mother no longer cooked dinner, we didn't talk as much anymore, she expected more from me, she and my father argued a lot more, amongst other things. I felt like I could no longer have a conversation with my mother about life, and I now had this hate towards the person she had become. I started trying to find the qualities she used to possess in the other women in my life like I was trying to replace her, though I realize now that's not what I really wanted to do. I wanted my old mother back, the one that used to hold me when I was scared, the one that comforted me at night and showed me sympathy when I made mistakes, my best friend. After a couple years of this new person, I guess I came to terms that she wasn't coming back and I accepted that.

When I got to high school and I realized I needed someone other than close friends to talk to, my relationship with my mother seemed to have gotten worse. It was like the more I needed her, the farther apart we grew. I needed guidance and I felt like she wasn't there to guide me, yet I witnessed her guiding her students at school as if she thought of them as her kids. My mother was always passionate about her work, but now this passion towards her students put jealousy in my heart, and I didn't even realize that until just now. It's funny what expressing your feelings through writing reveal to you. As things progressively got worse, I started blocking out the whole world until pretty soon nobody knew how I truly felt, not my closest friends, not even my sister. I kept all my feelings to myself and focused on pleasing everyone around me, especially my mother. I succeeded at pleasing my peers and most of my family, but I always felt as though I had to go the extra mile for my mother, and while I knew I was doing just about my best, she wanted more out of me. I tried to break my back to get her attention, and when I still didn't get it, I gave up; I gave up on life. Thoughts of suicide definitely ran through my mind and I tried to block them out, but they were quite persistent. Finally, I found an outlet in writing, something I hadn't done in a while. This seemed to help a little, at least admitting my feelings to myself helped me to realize that I had a problem, I just wasn't ready to solve it yet, and I still don't think I am.

Here are a couple of poems that came out of this constant battle I was having:

[Untilted as usual]
"You're welcome…"
"Oh no, its okay I don't need any help…"
"That's alright I know you didn't mean to…"
"I had a great day, thanks for asking…"

Sound familiar? That's because it shouldn't. That's because all the comments that usually proceed these, were never said
All the things left unsaid.
I bet they're locked up in your head. I bet they got trapped in your throat on the way out as you turned around to see who was in your presence, only to realize that it was just me

No, save those words for the people that matter.
Save them, keep them close to your heart.
Keep them so close that when you say them the receiver can hear the pain or glory from deep within your heart where they once dwelt.
Don't waste them on innocent bystanders. Don't bother practicing on someone who doesn't appreciate their true values; someone who won't hear the deep emotions behind them.

The occasional "thank you", or the "I'm sorry", maybe even the "how was your day?", or the "do you need any help?"
Shit, if you really want to go deeper then how about the "I love you" in place of "I love you too" because it means so much more when you say it first. That's the type of shit that makes your heart stop. Hell, traveling from the right mouth to the right ear could lead to some serious physical activity, but I'll save that for another poem cuz this aint about that.

Don't waste those words. Use them wisely. Don't go around using them loosely because those are some tight words; tighter than some fresh done braids. They're heavy too, even more than an eighteen wheeler or all the bricks in the world or some shit I don't know. They're heavier that the pain weighing down on my heart.

So don't waste those words on me because damn, I'm just your daughter.
I don't know shit forreal.

 

[again untilted]

Why do you keep wasting your time
I mean, everybody else left long ago, so tell me, why are you still here
Why do you still care. Even I don't and they're my damn problems
I put up the wall not you. I blocked out the world
What's the point of talking if there's nobody to listen
I just gave up. I got tired of trying. Can you blame me?
Really, can you blame me? I'm not going to waste my time trying to figure out something I already know.
You may not see it but I do.
Yeah sure you care, but how can you care about something you know nothing about?
How can you tell me you love me when you don't even know me?
You raised me but you weren't around. You provided for me but you didn't give me anything.
I have only learned what I've noticed, not what you've taught me. So no I don't want to talk. I'm on my way out, don't you think you're a little too late?
I don't want to fix any of these "problems" you keep talking about. And yeah I know what you're going to say, "one of these days you're going to need me", well let me tell you something; That day has come and gone and I'm still here.
That day came plenty of times and I'm still living, breathing, being.
That day dwells in the back of my mind, and I can't let it go but I'm not going to let it slow me down either.
That day was yesterday, today, and tomorrow, but you're too busy to notice that. So busy trying to find out what's going on with me instead of just ask me….It's me you want so come and get it! Don't ask my best friend's mother to talk to me because you're too afraid to. Don't ask your friends or anybody else to pry into my personal life because if you really cared I wouldn't have to tell you, you would already know because you would have been there every step of the way, telling me everything's going to be okay. Instead you were standing on the sideline, on the phone rather than paying attention to the game. Talking to your old friends in the crowd rather than cheering me on. Trying to figure what you want to do next instead of watching me…why weren't you watching me?
Now I'm just one of those kids you see wandering around the mall, not crying because this has happened so many times before that being lost in strange places doesn't even phase them anymore. Being alone in a big world doesn't scare them anymore. They no longer fear fear itself because it has become their friend. The darkness has become their habitat. The darkness is where they dwell.
It's a little too late for I'm sorry because in eight months I'll be gone, and I can't fill you in on what happened over the past seven years in eight short months. And, even if I could I don't think I'm willing to try.
So don't cry, don't feel bad, just move on because that's what I had to do. That's what I've always done, that's how I live my life. Never letting the big things that would normally break a person affect my swag. Just keeping the little things bottled up inside. Storing them like weapons so that when the day comes that you need me….I can pull them all out, throw them all away, and lend you a helping hand because throwing old shit in someone's face has never been my style, that's just not how I roll. Sorry to disappoint you. Sorry I'm not just like you. Sorry you can't control me, but hey, you can't domesticate a wild beast.

 

Ignore the grammar and spelling errors, we don't all think grammatically correct do we?