so young and unprepared
like the ocean before a storm
i was once like that.
but in due time one becomes aged and bent
you are no longer innocent
your eyes begin to sag
your body is an old tree
and with such cruel fate comes even more confusion
for all this time you let yourself go, it was not enough
but do you remember when you were a child?
when your mother kissed you goodnight.
and the stars were twinkling like diamonds
the ones your grandmother got you on your 11th birthday.
but now it's over, mother is not here. the stars are old, and so are you.
you have heard the call from the past.
and that is all it is.
you are older.
and so much more different and so much more sad.

i am not yet accustomed to this world
i want to go back again and make things better
for my heart aches knowing where everything was left
but it is already too late
too many mistakes were made
and i don't think anybody can forgive me
if i were to begin again i would do it right
for my life would have been different.
my life would surely be better.
but i can't
i will never have that opportunity
why? why? why? i am so ashamed
i am so embarrassed
i am so dreading the winter's cold; i will never understand why i do this to myself
for all things born into this world can be happy. so why can't i?
my body is both cold and lifeless as i ride down into deep seas. but when it reaches the bottom i dwell,
and i don't enjoy beauty from my past.
the dark is scary. but it seems to be endless
i will die in pain
i will always remember my past as a great tragedy. and when i crumble, remember, i am sorry

i feel pain for my soul,
you were always my dream
i dreamt of gold. the beauty and simplicity that would be our relationship
because we. we were meant to be.
i dreamt of autumn, harvesting one anothers minds, bodies, souls.
because, as i said. we were meant to be.
i still believed this even when he insulted me, and told me i was just a girl.
i still believed this when he ridiculed my passions and laughed at the art in the middle of the MET.
and later that night, forcing shots of alcohol down my throat until i blacked out in the bathroom, i still believed this.
he even told me not to. but i was blind, and maybe, just maybe the hurt was comforting.
i believed it even when he did not ask me to do it.
but when he grasped me i was gone
for i was neither happy nor sad
when he was doing this i felt numb
my spirit hovering in thin air
he would be the nightmare i had for the rest of my life.
and then i realized. it all seemed too much.
you were too scary.
monsters, answering with his breath.
my dream had transformed into my nightmare.
i loved you.
but i couldn't afford to stay.

I used to always wonder how people lived in New York City.
Where were the homes?
When I was younger I used to picture these rural houses with beautiful green grass and a lovely wrap around pine wood porch adjacent to the Empire State Building. Then I grew up and realized apartments existed, I realized neighborhoods in the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens existed and were places where suburban homes and condominiums were.
I realized that not all homes were made with grass and wrap around porches.
Some homes were on the fourth floor of an apartment complex with a musty smell and a view of a graffitied wall in the ghetto.
I realized that sometimes these places felt more like home than any home in a small rural town with a smoke puffing chimney and windmill could ever feel.

My first mistake was being born.
Because when you are born the child of a doctor and an engineer you have expectations, you see.
You must be smart,
but of course not too smart because you’re a girl.
You must carry yourself with poise and grace,
but not too graceful or else you’ll be seen as too girly.
You must be successful,
but if you’re too successful no man will want to marry you.
Because when your father dies two months before you are born and your mother is constantly working, you’re already an orphan.
You must be happy,
but of course not too happy, because then people will think you’re strange.
You must help others,
but not before you help yourself.
You must not cry,
but if you do, make sure you hide it.
Because when you’re a sweet white girl with a nice body you’re seen as an object.
You must let him touch you,
but if you don't like it, make sure you act like you do.
You must never say no,
but if you do and he hits you, you cannot tell anybody.
You must not tell anybody,
but if you do and they laugh, you must understand.
Because when you’re a dancer and a runner, the pressure to be beautiful and thin is stronger than your cries of help.
You must restrict your calories,
but if you cant, make sure you throw up.
You must apply makeup and cover your blemishes,
but if you cant, make sure you hide your face.
You must exercise until you pass out,
but if you cant, make sure you don't eat the next day.
Because if you do not get good grades you are not good enough.
You must study,
but if you forget, make sure you cry yourself to sleep because you cannot do this anymore.
You must be the best in your class,
but if you can’t be, make sure you congratulate the best, even though you cannot do this anymore.
You must stay in and work hard instead of going out and having fun,
but if you don’t, make sure you feel guilty about it since you cannot do this anymore.
You must be happy.
You must be smart.
You must not cry.
You must be perfect.
You have to be.
You can’t be.