I’ve lost myself.
I no longer know who I am
and I’ve looked at all those poems I had to write in English
you know the ones
the acrostic poems where teacher makes you use your name as the word
and the lines off the letters are supposed to describe you.
Yet I don’t see myself as that person anymore.
I sign my name as Paige Swanson
it’s the name on my birth certificate the one my mother decided on.
Paige is the name I respond to
Swanson is the name I sometimes despise.
Thats changed over time though,
because when I was younger I liked my last name and despised my middle.
I’ve reached high school and the only thing unique about me
about my entire name is the middle one.
Bobette.
It’s the name that people don’t expect and don’t believe
at least not the first time I say and spell it.
Bobette.
The name I decided to use to find words that people think describe me.
I don’t know who I am so I’m trying to find out through my friends.
Through my middle name.
B - Beautiful…or so my best friend and boyfriend say.
Beautiful not just face and body but soul and mind.
Beautiful words in writing
and paintings on canvas.
O - Observant… I notice and remember the little things
the chain on someones necklace being messed up
when someones makeup is smudged.
Other peoples feelings
more so than my own.
B - Bereaved as I’m still missing my grandmother
my pets
my old friends
and when I used to know who I am.
E - Electrifying for my personality
for my looks
and attitude
or maybe just because I have a tendency to shock people.
T - Ticklish not that you get to know where
and as my boyfriend has learned in the past 2 months
tickling me can lead to 1 of 2 things.
Either an extreme act of violence or kissing. (at least when it comes to him)
T - Tender even though I may not always seem like it
as I’m the friend and girlfriend that playfully hits you
but as soon as you’re actually hurt or upset
I’m there to try and help take the pain away.
E - Entrancing as I apparently distract people
or did they say enthralling as I keep peoples attention
no I think it was Enchanting as like a fairytale my personality keeps people watching
wait…those words all mean the same thing…never mind.
Bobette.
The only unique part of my name…of me
and I’ve used it to find who I am
but all I’ve done is find words that people think describe me.
Not who I am
and I think I’m more confused now than I was to begin with
So I have a question…
Can someone tell me who I am?
Cause I have no idea anymore.

I can’t see the things you say.
You say that you care and that you love me,
but when I’m around you I feel useless ... worthless.
I have few things in this world that make my life worth living
and those are the things that you threaten to take away
that you threaten to get rid of.
I have cuts on my hips that you have never seen.
That you have never known about.
And when i look at them I see your name.
Oh, but don’t worry I see my father’s name as well.
They appear because it’s the only way I can feel
something other than worthless after speaking with you.
You don’t understand that when you yell
when you tell me I’m not even trying
that you ‘ll take away the only things that keep me alive
I feel horrible.
I feel worthless.
I feel like I don’t matter and that I never have.
You want me to be my sister…
you want me to be you,
but I can’t change who I am.
I am my own person and I guess that isn’t a good thing
at least not in this family.
You carried me for nine months
you gave birth to me.
you raised me.
But you shove me down and take my life away
because it doesn’t suit the way you want things.
The way you want me to be.
I’m sorry I have an opinion that’s not yours
and that I fight for what I believe and think
rather than submitting to your will.
I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.
I’m sorry that you ever had a second daughter.
I’m sorry I’m here.
I’m sorry...

She paints her hips the color of her blood
the way she paints the water light blues and greens.
Except the cuts on her skin aren’t beautiful
not like the trees and branches in the painting for her sister.
That razor hitting her skin and spilling her blood
it’s far different from her paintbrush hitting the canvas and spilling paint.

She etches her skin with this blade
the way he etched his lungs with smoke.
One is visible to the eye if only they look
The other is hidden and can’t be seen.
Both are deadly
but one of them stopped and the other has not.

The numbness takes over leaving her cold
She lays on the bed staring at the ceiling feeling nothing.
The girl hates it so she grabs that blade and finds a new spot to cut.
She winces as the blood begins to drip down her hip
and feelings begin to form in her chest again.
The feeling may be pain,
but to her anything is better than nothing.

The girl knows she needs to stop
she knows that on her hips
there are no beautiful pictures in blues and greens
but tragic stories written in nothing but blood.
The tale of a girl who would rather live in pain
than die in numbness.

"I'm just tired..."
Excuse one for the silence that ensues.
She listens as he tells her he refuses to hurt her
...even though she aches as the words leave his lips.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting is all she wants.

"I didn't sleep well..."
Excuse two for the agitated responses.
Her best friend has distanced herself
...but expects her to just sit by and wait to be wanted again.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting gags her.

"It was a rough night..."
Excuse three for the silent tears that stream down her face.
Her father tells her she's a spoiled, stupid *****
...but acts like he's a genius that's greater than God.
Food loses its appeal entirely.

"I don't need a mirror to see myself..."
Excuse four for her avoidance of reflective surfaces.
Her mirror has become her worst enemy
...reflecting her flaws and screaming her issues.
She no longer has an appetite.

"I'm fine"
Excuse five... and six for all the things she does in a day.
She's breaking, crying, and dying
...but its been repeated so many times her friends have begun to believe it.
Food now makes her want to throw up.

"Excuses, Excuses"*
seven, eight, nine, ten for all the things she needs to deny
her mask of a smile makes everyone believe them all
...no one realizing how unhappy she is
she eats...but only because she doesn't want them to worry.

Broken
laying among the shards.
The pieces of my being
the pieces I took and destroyed
just so I could be with you for one more day.

I said I stand precariously close to the edge
but I almost feel like I've already fallen.
I'm falling and you've yet to decide
if I'll meet my death
or the glorious waves of the ocean.
I can see the black rocks beckoning me
and the pink ocean drawing me closer.
But with these words falling from your lips
like poison in your kisses
the wind flings me into the path of my death.
I brace for impact knowing I've made a mistake
but the only thing I feel is the gentle caress of your hand
as you pull me back to the edge of the cliff
back to you.
Over and over again I fall
and over and over again you pull me back up.
Pull me to your warm embrace and hold me close
and every time you let me take that step off
that could mean death and every time time your words
push and pull me closer to the black abyss.
Why can't I ever feel the warm spray
of that beautiful ocean on my fingertips?
I just wish that for once the warm pink ocean would embrace me
the way your arms do.
I wish my heart would let me walk away
...that you would jump off that cliff with me just once.
So that just once I could feel the embrace of the ocean
that's so like your arms when you hold me.

The hatred we always feel
especially when things aren’t real.
Destroys our minds and kills our souls
leaving our bones filled with holes.
making our broken beings impossible to heal.