I watch my amazing
wonderful
thoughtful
funny
boy.

He doesn't belong.

He is merely tolerated
by people he thinks
are his friends.

But I watch.
And I know.

He has no confidant.
He is no one's go-to guy.
He is alone.

I understand his situation.
I lived it.

And it was everything I didn't want for him.

The Loneliness.
The Isolation.
The Wondering...

Why is who I am not good enough?
Why do people not understand me?
Who do I have?

So I say to my son...
you have me.
Always me.

I will accept you
and acknowledge you
and love you.

I will remind you why
you are the best thing that
has ever happened to me.
That you changed my life.
That you are my reason for being.

That people don't understand the depth of your soul.
Your compassion.
Your understanding of humanity.
Already at age 14.

And that someday
people will regret
not knowing you
and accepting you
and loving you
while you move on to people who do.

Until then,
you always have me, son.
Always.

each character
you have ever written
should mean something
irretractable
and purposeful

so if i could burn
each scrap and sheet
that held letters i never cared to write
fuel the fire with each pencil i've ever sharpened to the nub
and left myself only with the words i crafted
with care and precision

i would be at peace.

Note to self: When I wrote this, I was happy.

i'm awfully
sensual
for someone who knows
nothing
about senses

if it is suggested to me one more time
that my self-worth
is defined by
• my weight
• how attractive i am
• my ability to be submissive and agreeable
i will unleash
in all her feminist glory
my inner warrior princess
and she will rip your soul out
and spit on it.

you knew my eyes
knew that they had been leaking, faulty, allowing my body to flood
with emotion
and then drain
messily, leaving black rivers to dry on my cheeks

but still, you shook me
with your anger
you allowed me to fill up again
but this time i burst