i asked
this question with not a lick of malice on my tongue,

“why don’t you ever look for me or anyone else in this family”

and was met with,

“did i do something to you? is there a problem?”

exasperated and stunned

i’m so disappointed

in my mother

you could call me an ungrateful child

but jesus

all she does is blame me
and create all these problems within me
all these doubts
i wish i could say it’s from myself
but it all goes back to her

My mom grabbed my shoulder firmly and rubbed it

“that’s more like it”

with a sigh of relief

her eyes flickered my body up and down
in the reflection of the mirror

“those pants did nothing for you” she added

I looked at the pants
as they laid on the chair beside the bed
those pants that once gave me
confidence but
  
they’ve  became something I despised

not because I actually hated them  

I just hated myself

no longer pushing my
presence

keeping myself for
me

i walked on the water
in the midst of a gloomy cloud

i walked only but a few steps
to my rock

my getaway and my peace

I sat there waiting for the storm surrounding
me
to pass by

it was beautiful

i often visit this place

the question we must come to ask ourselves is this


at the end of the day am i addicted to the victim role or am i actually a victim

you know what’s worse than killing yourself


failing at it