Can you really know me
If you don't know the darkness I've seen?
If you don't understand
Why it's so hard for me to sleep?
Or how I have to fight back tears
When I hear someone yelling?
Can you ever truly see me
If I don't show you what's behind me?
The childhood trauma boxed up neat
Until it spills across the floor of my insides
I keep the doors locked mostly
But locks don't prevent earthquakes
And sometimes, the ground shakes and
Frees memories to pool and suffocate
I've thought about speaking them but
Something inside says it's not bad enough
That no one will understand or see me
They'll just judge me as weak
"I'll give you something to cry about"
Hurled at a traumatized body
I don't want you to see me
Because you could call it sensitivity
And overlook the senseless violence
That comes with surveillance, intimidation
To share this pain is too risky
Because so much of it is crazy-making
I can take a punch no problem
It's the other stuff that broke me deeply
Expectations perfectionistic and unrealistic
Task repetition into sleep deprivation
Fear flooding my system so entirely
I chose to **** myself over interrupting her
Every week she made me grab the scale
No matter the result, I know I'll fail
If I gain weight then I'm lazy trash
A decrease? muscle weighs more than fat
And when she found out that I hated myself
She had the nerve to act confused
Asking if I know that I'm beautiful
Like I should love this body that could only lose.
She controlled everything
From how I wore my hair
To the clothes on my body.
Forced to speed walk around the park
I was so afraid of her and her rage
I never told her people made fun of me.
She made every decision
Not only what I ate
But how much too.
I'd learn to eat fast like she wanted
Trying to finish what she gave me
It didn't matter that it was too much.
Despite my attempts at compliance
I often threw up before I could finish
And she'd scream about that too.
In the mornings at home I'd wait in dread
To see who would come to get me
Whether my mother or she were driving.
With her, the entire ride home
I had to recite Everything I did at home
Starting over at any detail missed.
From snacks to bathroom breaks
Over and over I repeated and forgot
Never able to remember it all like she could.
Sometimes neighbors were concerned
Picking fights, they'd bring me up
With pride she'd say I'm just like her.
From love to hate she'd shift
Moods vacillating so fast
It'd give anyone whiplash.
Once a neighbor reported her for hitting me
But the police knew of neighborhood feuds
No one ever asked me about it.
I learned to move around silently
Rushing to get outside the house
Before she could wake up and yell at me.
She'd scream so close to my face
I'd be showered in her spit
Trying to stop the tears from betraying me.
I'd watch two grown adults fist fighting
Being threatened not to cry
And failing anyway.
A no phone rule meant forced isolation
When I brought my iPod in my backpack
She stole it and never gave it back.
School was solace in those weeks
And I'd try to lose myself in reading
Anything to escape experiencing reality.
Sometimes she sent me to sleep very early
Other nights she kept me up well into the morning
Redoing tasks until she deemed it done right.
Alone in bed at night
I'd stare into the glowing clock
Counting down my time
Consumed by shame
And the deepest desire to die.
So can you really know me if you never see
That this is the history that haunts me
In the face of insanity there is no winning
So what's the point of it being seen?