Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

When I was of a young age
I’d often sneak into bed with my mother to watch television.
When I could hear my father’s footsteps approaching
I’d cuddle up to my mom,
Hoping that I was tiny enough
To not be seen.
I wished to hide
And not have to leave.

Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

Slowly, I’d drag myself out of my small, warm bed,
Attempting to make my way down the hall without passing out or puking.
My new place of rest would still be warm
With the heat my mother’s body left behind.
Comfortable there, I would waste my time
Sleeping and watching cartoons
While waiting for my bowl of soup to arrive at noon.

Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

I’d cry out for my mom while running to the bathroom
And she’d meet me there with a wet cloth in her hand.
Gently she’d pull my hair back
While I stayed put with my head above the toilet.
I’d puke until I could puke no more,
And the whole time she’d slowly be rubbing my back.
Afterwards she’d hand me the cloth
That she so patiently had been holding
So I could wipe my face before preparing myself for bed
Once again.

I took her for granted,
Always expecting her to be there,
But now I am alone
With no one to comfort me
Through my sickness,
And I wish for those days of my childhood
When she would stand by my side
In the middle of the night.

Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

Alone I stand in the middle of a field
Covered in a blanket of fresh, white snow,
Some still sprinkling gently down from the cold grey sky.
My vision is distorted,
Blurred greatly by the cloud that quietly sits only feet from the ground.
How I got here, I wonder,
As I begin to trudge in any direction I can, struggling to find my way.

So long it seems I have been walking, getting no closer to civilization,
And the fog shows no signs of lifting.
With my head slightly spinning and my body so tired,
I collapse into a bed of snow
And wake up immediately in my warm, dark room, alone.

Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

flooding in my head,
drowning my mind,
and I cannot drain them.

Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

What would it feel like to have the whole ocean against you,
To struggle against the strength its waves throw at you
And constantly crawl through salty water
For sips of the air us humans must breathe in order to live?
What would it feel like
To fight against such outrageous power
And lose,
Sinking slowly into its dark beauty, away from the sunlight
That reaches through the blue for you?
After the burning [oh, the burning!]
A peaceful dream may wash over you,
Just as the ocean once did
When it first welcomed you into its flowing arms.

Kelly Whiteside
Feb 19, 2012

Years from now, I’ll be remembered
As the girl who never spoke,
The girl who was emotionless,
Expressionless.

Years from now, people will talk about me,
Wondering
What I was really like.
Will they still think that I’m
A stuck-up bitch,
Better than everyone,
Just ‘cause I was able to hold my head
Higher than they ever could?

Years from now, will they still consider me a freak
Because of my lack of words, lack of actions,
Lack of reactions?

Years from now, they’ll have forgotten why they never liked me,
But I’ll never forget why I hated them.
I’ll laugh at them all for being so stupid,
Years from now.

 
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