I used to love my mother.
I wanted to be like her.
She was the person I looked at as an adult.
Today I no longer love her.
Today she is the cause of all my problems.
From my health problems, due to her drug use while she was pregnant,
To my mental problems, both hereditary and from situations she put me in.
My addiction problems, not only because she’s an addict but also from how she treated me.
My eating disorder, because she used to bully me about my weight.
I have problems making friends because she ****** me up so bad I don’t relate to people well.
I’m afraid of being alone with men because of how many times she left me with random men and every time I ended up getting hurt, from as young as 3 ******* years old.
I lost trust in the system because no matter how many times CPS was called she found a way to keep me and my brother, because she’s ****** her way out of every one of her arrests. Including but not limited to, possession of a controlled substance, driving without a license, prostitution, endangerment of a minor, petty larceny, and grand larceny.
I have authority problems because her parenting left me with no positive thoughts about authority.
I’m currently $1,263.21 in debt because she used me for drug money.
I don’t know how to handle my emotions healthily because for the first 16 years of my life I wasn’t even allowed to have them.
And even though she is also a victim of **** and ****** abuse she told me I was a liar and that she didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend’s son had been ****** me for years. She stayed with the man and told me it was a family decision about what to do about it.
She didn’t believe me when I told her her boyfriend felt me up while she was away taking care of her dying mother either.
I thought my abusive relationships were okay because she treated me the same way.
She’s why I was a closeted transboy for so ******* long. And when she finally found out I was screamed at me and told me I was a girl no matter what.
My mother.
My mother doesn’t deserve my love or my respect.
All my mother is today is a model of what not to do.

It’s your birthday today.
Every year this day is a bad day for me.
I think about you and your green eyes, and the pain you’ve caused me.
But I always end up breaking down and texting you.
I always tell you Happy Birthday,
I always make sure you’re okay and having a good day, it’s your birthday after all.
But you never remembered mine.
Every single birthday of yours since I was in 6th grade I’ve been here.
Doing my best for you.
I wanted to give you the world.
Even when it almost killed me.
Even though you only pretended to care about me.
This is the day I let myself get wasted,
I let myself slip back into old addictions just for a night, so maybe I could forget what day it is.
Not only is it the day you were born, it’s the day I lost Flower.
I know you told me to get over it, and I know you’ll never understand.
But March 23rd is one of the worst days of my life.

WildFlower.
That was the name I gave you, even though I knew you could never truly live.
You lived 4 months, 4 months longer than you should have but 4 months nonetheless.
You were my beautiful Flower who never had a chance in this world,
You were created from something horrible but I still loved you.
I was terrified of your existence, terrified for you.
This is a cruel world baby and I lived in a cruel place filled with only evil and hate and I know you wouldn’t be able to get the life you deserved, the life you should of had.
That’s why I’m thankful it was only 4 months. Because if it got to 9 then you would’ve had to live with the same horrible creatures I did and they would have tried to hurt you.
I wouldn’t have allowed that. I would’ve died before I let them hurt you.
I think about you all the time and even though the loss of you leaves a mark on my soul that can never be erased I’m glad you never had to live through what I did.
You were spared early.
I loved you then, I love you now, and I will always love you.
I’m sorry I could never give you the life you deserved.
I’m sorry you were just a flower who never grew the leaves you needed to be able to live and grow.
I’m sorry you were mine. You deserved better.
My WildFlower.

I’m from Poughkeepsie
I’m from a family of a mother, a step-dad, a step-brother, and a younger brother
I’m from a big white house with a porch  and a garden
But I’m not from happiness.

I’m from sadness
I’m from anger
I’m from disappointment
And I’m from fear.

I’m from going to school with hand prints on my face and bruises on my body
I’m from oppression
I’m from thinking it was okay.

Later I’m from stress
I’m from anxiety of messing up even slightly
I’m from **** and other ****** abuse
I’m from hiding and staying quiet
I’m from depression and crying myself to sleep
I’m from self-harm and attempted suicide
I’m from self-hatred and disgust

Thank god I’m not there anymore.

Today I’m from a new beginning
I’m from recovery
I’m from a higher self-esteem and contentment
I’m from actually being okay
I’m from being me
I refuse to ever go back.

It is 5:16 am and I’m sitting, smoking a cigarette out my window.
I’ve barely slept in days,
Everything around me is quiet and serene, not a single soul awake,
The only sound is the wind rustling the leaves
But my brain is on fire.
I don’t know if it’s from the sleeplessness or the million thoughts all at once swirling around attacking my mind.
But it hurts. A searing pounding in my head.
I want to do something fun
I want to do something reckless
I want to do something dangerous
I want to do something that’ll send adrenaline racing through my body just so I can feel alive.
I want to run away
Go on a ******
Party for weeks
Fill my body with drugs
I want to risk my life
Feel blood dripping down my skin
I want to do anything to feel my own morality.
This is why at 13 I was binge drinking every day and popping pills,
The substances were enough to keep the voices quiet for a little while.
But tonight I stay at my window,
Chain smoke another 4 cigarettes,
Thinking of all the juvenile things I could be doing.
This is what mania is like for me.
There’s little warning, just an itch under my skin of feeling stuck, or unreasonably bored.
When it hits it’s not like a ton of bricks,
There’s no immediate realization I’m manic,
It feels more like neon shadows slithering towards me,
scratching and seeping themselves into my body
Whispering, but still screaming, directly to the source,
Invading my peace,
My stability.
******* just let me ******* sleep.

Your eyes were the most beautiful green.
The very first moment I saw them I knew you owned me.
That beautiful, bright, glassy green bore into my heart and soul,
I could never find anything beautiful enough to compare to your eyes.
That green was the color that filled my dreams,
To me that color symbolized happiness, love, adoration, and a trillion other emotions I couldn’t even begin to describe.
Did you know that’s why I told you green was my favorite color?
I worshipped you.
If only I ******* knew then that that green was actually the color of greed, jealousy, pain, and psychological abuse.
That it was the color of crying myself to sleep every **** night just wondering why I wasn’t ever good enough for you to stop hurting me, why you didn’t love me like you knew I loved you.
That it was the color of my first abusive relationship.
Your eyes baby, are the color of venomous insects that lure you in and trap you with their beautiful selves just so they can leave gaping, gory wounds like you did to my heart, my body, my mind, and my soul.
And even though you broke me in ways I didn’t know a person could be broken,
Your eyes, are still the most beautiful color I’ve ever seen.