I look up at the ceiling fan
The brownish red wood of the five blades
Three bulbs shining down on me

It looks perfectly clean
Even kind of happy

Then I look at the other side of those blades
And I see dust
Grayness piling over eachother
On the other side of those blades
Is the silent suffering
Sometimes spilling over the edges
Though barely visible

If you don't look closely
You might have no idea
Plus, it doesn't really matter
It still fans you
And helps you feel good


Do you ever feel like the fan?
Or are you a person in this situation?
What do you notice?

I want to write something beautiful
But my thoughts and my heart aren't there right now
And that's where I write from

So everything I write is messy and weird

And probably a little unhealthy

Maybe a little stuck too

My therapist told me
That you said
You wanted to be friends

She didn't understand how messed up that was

I don't want to be his friend
I don't need my father as a friend
I need him as a parent
And a good one at that

You choose your friends
I don't choose you

You're forced to be someone's child
Like I was to you
Except you want to be my friend
I don't want you

My mom had an escape
She divorced him
And even then
It took her a child
And 25 years

I'm stuck
He's in my bones
There's nothing I can do
Except choose not to be friends with him

I want to be his daughter
And for that he has to be my dad
Thats on him

Step one:
Be an adult

*Failed

You don’t know what it's like
To try
And try
And try
With no results

You don’t know what it's like
To cry
And cry
And cry
Tears full of salt

You don’t know what it's like
To die
And die
And die
Every second you're alive

You don’t know what it's like
To lie
And lie
And lie
But nothing
Will ever
Ever
Ever
Get better.

i can't pick up the pieces
every time you break
i have my own
to retrieve from the floor

I don't wake up in time
My mom is yelling at me
Loudly
But she doesn't even notice what she's doing
Or she doesn't care

I can't be yelled at by her
My eyes are beginning to water
My chest is getting tight
My tired cold body gets tense
I can't go to school like this
Not now at least

"Mom, can I go to school a bit late today?"
"No"
She says
She yells some more
I still think she doesn't know that she's yelling
"Mom, you're yelling"
I say calmly as tears leak out of my tired eyes
All I hear is anger and
Disappointment because her daughter is acting like someone her age and not someone who seems especially mature

"Liana, if you need to go to school late
You need professional help"

She means a psych ward
And I know it

No, no, no
Fear spreads through me like a virus
It takes control
It makes me power off
My screen is glitching
I don't work anymore

If I want to act like someone my age who got 3 hours of sleep I need to go to a mental hospital where I won't go to school at all?

As I get up out of bed
Run to the bathroom
To cry

I brush my teeth
Wash my face from the tears
But new ones spill out
They won't stop coming
It's a thunderstorm
It's been brewing for a while

Come back to my room
My mom in there doing something
I step into my closet to change

What am I doing?
She's your mother
she's your sane parent.
So many would wish for one like her
I think

After arguing
Crying
Explaining
She says
"I'll take you to school after my shower"
And now I'm writing

I can't go to school like this
I'm a thin plate
Just waiting to break
And school likes throwing things like me
So I'll split into a million little pieces
And maybe never put me back together

Even now
Many many years later
I still feel like the 2nd grader who sat under the slide and carved shapes into the mulch during recess
Sitting there
Watching everyone be normal
And just thinking thoughts