i resent that i was not allowed to go out
even among trusted friends.
i resent that i never got to party,
that i never risked getting in trouble.

situations i never yearned for,
for i never had the chance to consider them.
keeping me safe, keeping up appearances.
none of it mattered in the end.

i just wanted to have fun.

having to be the pride and joy,
your mother’s loving, golden boy,
means there is no outlet.
one must keep up appearances,
for the role is exhausting.
but how does one ever learn to breathe
in a vice grip.

biologically blocked from social situations.
memories of childhood yearning, confusion,
memories of teenage anxiety, self-hatred,
seldom allowed to let loose.
never allowed to breathe.

now, i must rebirth myself
and become my own mother.
now, i still hide myself
from my own mother.
never a husband, never a brother,
and never a son.

but how does one raise oneself?
how to learn the affectations
and gestures,
how to exist comfortably,
when your entire history
is an encyclopedia of hiding.

i resent so much that may have been,
and never can be,
and i’ll try to be okay with it,
but i know i never,
fully,
will be.

- e