I need a hug from someone who doesn't feel sorry for me.
Unfortunately, I don't think there's any left.

Screaming.
From the bedroom four doors down.
From inside my own head.
From my dad, as he leaves.

Screaming.
From the bedroom three doors down.
From inside my own head.
From my oldest brother, as he leaves.

Screaming.
From the bedroom two doors down.
From inside my own head.
From my next brother, as he leaves

Screaming?
No, the next door is passed.
Nothing is wrong.
Targets aren’t painted for the adopted.

Knock, knock.
The door.

What a great day to be a McKay.

I am here, sitting in the center of the tornado.
Everything moving quickly.
I am here, while noise fills up the room all at once
But nothing said goes unheard to me.

I am here, and everything around seems so happy
While I am here, feeling the weight of the world.
I’m here, while everything seems so bright
Yet I’m still stuck in a deep dark pit.

I am here…
Here I am…
Am I here…?

Umm...
Undermining
My
Mind
Dot of the unsure
Dot of the lies
Dot of the worry

Not sure whether to raise my hand or not.
I know the answer, but...
Flashing memories
Of all the name calling
Of all the crying
Of all “I’m fine”s
When really I’m not.

Not sure whether to tell the truth or not.
I know what I feel, but…
Flashing memories
Of all the screaming
Of all the hiding
Of all the “I feel good”s
When really I don’t.

Not sure whether to show the pain or not.
I know where the pain is coming from, but…
Flashing memories
Of all the fake worried faces
Of all the anxiety attacks
Of all the “I’m okay”s
When really I’m not.

Umm…
Undermining
My
Mind
Dot of the unsure
Dot of the lies
Dot of the worry

A line of 100 little girls on the shore
All have a heart that’s torn
Fighting their own civil war
But don’t know what their standing for

Some are fighting for affection
Maybe a few stand for perfection
A load trying to make corrections
One or two just hate their inner reflection

A line of 100 little girls all cry and bawl
All cut from the same shawl
Broken pieces of the same doll
Bricks from the same wall

Some are tattered
Maybe a few are shattered
A load feeling splattered
One or two are completely battered

A line of 100 little girls all broken
Feeling chosen
Until their hearts feel stolen
Crashing from the same moment.

Some are there because they were bad
Maybe a few are there because they were sad
A load that felt mad
One or two felt glad

A line of 100 little girls with stones above their head
They’re all dead
They’ve gone to bed
More to come, just hanging by a thread

Some couldn’t hold on
Maybe a few just wanted to be gone
A load that didn’t want to see another dawn
One or two were just withdrawn

A line of 100 little girls’ graves
Stuck in my heart’s darkest caves
Chaining my limbs like slaves
Let me drown in the crashing waves.

I heard you said that I was pretty,
But it was obviously a mistake.
How could a guy like you
Have feelings for me?
I'm not cool or good looking.
Not funny or slimming.
Nor am I formal,
Half the time I'm just trying to be normal.

I get the feeling that you're proud of me,
Are you wrong, too?
I'm not as smart as the smartest kids,
But not as average as the averages.
No one ever notices me try and do something,
So how'd you figure that you noticed my nothings?
'Cause last time I checked, I was a bore.
When I talked to you, you walked toward the door.

I see that you are smiling at me,
Those white pearls showing.
That doesn't make much sense to me
Because no one likes me the way I am.
I've had fake friends before,
But this seems real as well as odd.
I'm too closed up and definitely too weird.
Too different for anyone as normal as you with all your previous nasty sneers.

This is weird,
It just isn't right.
No one can love me,
At least not the way I am.
I just wish I could see what is fake and what is real,
Because now I don't know how to feel.

You liking me,
That's just not right,
It doesn't make sense,
And it makes me confused.

That's just not right

Stop!
They don’t really like you.
They are only being nice because of who your family is.
They’re using you.
You’re not good enough to have real friends.
How could you possibly think you were good enough?
You’re too weird.
One day when your family doesn’t matter they’ll drop you with a snap of their fingers,
Just.
Like.
That.

Hold on!
Your mom doesn’t love you.
She has every reason not to.
You’re your father’s kid, girl,
Just having the same genes as him could probably get you kicked out.
You ***** up to much, such a disappointment.
She has plenty of kids, you and your brothers aren’t needed to make this family work.
She has a handpicked child, and two more that are perfect,
Red hair, taller, bigger, better, and simply not a McKay.

Wait just a second!
He doesn’t actually think you’re pretty.
You know you’re ugly and the glasses make it worse.
He is tricking you.
No one will ever truly like you.
You’re not pretty enough, smart enough, cool enough.
Face it, you are just one big fat fraud.
And even if someone actually did like you,
They would change their mind quickly because you’re messed up.

I hope you know, everything is your fault!
God gave up on you, that’s why I tell you not to pray, you are beyond repair.
Your parents’ divorce, not having friends, not being pretty, me, it’s all your fault.
I’m in here screaming at the top of my lungs, diverting your attention, because of you.
And I will never leave, in fact, as you grow up, day by day I’ll add.
Self-doubt, Anxiety, Depression, Loneliness.
And they won’t leave either.
We will always be here, reminding you that you’re a failure, and won’t ever be enough.
...Until you stop trying...

The driveway of my house has potholes and washed up chalk residue.
Markings from bike tires and cars that come and go.
I try and try to get to the car by the curb that’s been parked there since I was born,
But the driveway seems to get longer and longer, and longer.

My house sits at the back end of this driveway.
With traps that visitors can’t seem to find,
And yelling matches that can’t be heard through it’s impervious walls.
And so I run and run and run, never reaching the end of this dumb driveway.

If you ask the people who have or haven't reached their car,
They all have different opinions.
It all depends on the person-- no… the past.
Who’s been seen, who’s been heard, who’s been loved, and who’s been misunderstood.

We may be wrong, or we may be right
But we don’t care
Because all we want to do is reach the gosh **** car at the end of this Rotten driveway
That feels longer every time we trip, fall, or bend to re-tie our porous shoes

I don’t yet understand that these falls and knots that I make now will help me to learn to drive,
So when I reach that car on this idiotic driveway’s curb
I’ll be able to grasp the steering wheel
And drive, away of course.

When I back out of this rundown, beat-up, defeated driveway
I’ll think of the path it took me on.
Maybe all the scratches and bruises I’ll have by the end of this pavement
Will tell me different tales from the perspective of the rocks and cement.

Life seems rough looking back at the torn up house from this ever-stretching driveway,
Because no one remembers the good,
the colorful chalk pictures and the shiny new bikes
And maybe we won’t ever remember unless it’s all behind us and we reach that car on the curb of this
gosh ****, ever-stretching, rundown, beat-up, defeated, dumb, idiotic, Rotten, long, long, long driveway,
But i will always call it home.

Nothing

Nothing is too hard to explain.
It’s emptiness, but not really.
It’s like the feeling is there,
But the feeling of the feeling has been ****** out?
I know I’m happy when my boyfriend is smiling at me,
Like I’m the only person worth living for,
But I don’t feel happy.
I feel…
Nothing.

Why is my most important feeling Nothing?
And why is it so hard to explain?
This is the worst feeling I’ve ever had,
And it’s unexplainable because it’s Nothing.
I’m not feeling hungry or tired,
Or warm or cold.
I feel…
Nothing.

It’s different every time,
And it doesn’t happen often.
All I know is that I’m set off,
And then when I wake up the next day,
I’m just a big empty void.
Like looking through a camera lense, not actually in the moment.
I feel…
Nothing.

Sometimes it takes a nasty turn.
Like last time.
I was mad at myself for not feeling.
For not crying every night from my emotional pain.
Because he died, and I messed up, and I wasn’t there
So I made myself feel pain, but when I don’t
I feel…
Nothing.

But sometimes it is what it is.
It’s Nothing.
It’s like a break from all the anger, all the pain, all the crappiness I feel.
I just feel empty, like I’m waiting to be turned back on.
I’m stuck on sleep mode, like I’m not on, but I’m not off either.
And everything slowly turns on, everything is updated but still,
I feel…
Nothing.

Sometimes it lasts longer.
More than two months or just a few days.
Taking forever for everything to fully come back.
And I get angry thoughts the longer it lasts,
But when I go to yell out my frustration,
The feeling gets ****** out.
I feel…
Nothing.

Nothing is too hard to explain.
And when your just feeling Nothing, and people keep asking what’s wrong,
You can’t explain it right, because all you’re feeling is Nothing.
So they honestly think nothing is wrong.
And they technically are right,
They just don’t know.
I feel…
Nothing.

I’m feeling…
Nothing.