I've been waiting
18 years
for you to say
*I'm proud of you.

You will fail
Your GPA will drop
You can't do it

I think in the past few months,
I have been told this
Over 50 times.
And you won't believe who it's coming from.

My own mother.

The one who is supposed to be my biggest supporter.
The one who used to think I was smart.
The one who loved be regardless of my mistakes.
The one who I always asked for advice.
My best friend, my partner in crime, my mother.

It's as if nothing I do anymore
really means to her.
It's as if no matter how hard I try,
I still fail in her eyes.
No matter what I accomplish,
I will never hear her say,
"I am proud of you."*

At the end of the day,
the only reason I stay,
in this dreaded house,
is because I have nowhere else to go.

So for now,
I'll sit here,
and listen
to you
tell me
how my life should be
and how I will never amount to anything.

I love those mornings
Where the blinds are closed shut
But the sunlight still creeps in
And the room temperature is just right.
Your legs feel smooth against your blankets
Your head rests comfortably on your pillow
You hear the low murmur of your ceiling fan
And the birds are chirping outside

I love these Texas spring mornings
Full of sunshine and butterflies

When you let go of the negative
And embrace the positive,
When you decide to smile
Instead of frown,
When you destroy your demons
And stop listening to them,
When you open your windows
And breathe the life around you,

You finally feel this wondrous sensation
Called happiness.

I am not a victim,
But a warrior.

I am not my disorder,
But a imperfect human being.

I am not the scars on my skin,
But a survivor.

I am not the demons in my head,
But a recovery soldier.

I am not a victim,
*But a warrior.

As I lay on my bed,
I feel all my worries creep away
and disappear.

As I lay on my bed,
I close my eyes
and feel at ease.

As I lay on my bed,
I think of all the mistakes I've made,
the friendships I've lost,
the times I was wrong.

As I lay on my bed,
I realize that I am imperfectly perfect,
just the way I am.

I once knew a girl from Addison, Illinois.
She had extremely curly hair.
A bright smile.
And big brown eyes that twinkled from her happiness.
She was the chubbiest of babies.
Born at 8 pounds!

However, she grew up.
Her eyes stopped twinkling.
Her hair stopped curling as much.
Her smile faded.
She lost so much weight.
Underweight, she was.

Oh how I wish to see that same child.
Born in Addison.
8 pounds.
With sparkling eyes.

How I wish to see myself
as a young, healthy child.