I used to speak French
to protect myself.
impressing those around me
with grammatically incorrect insults
hidden behind a smile
to make them think I just
said something beautiful.

C’est la vie.

My mother lied to me.
My father hid his lie from me.
My brother thought he was lying to
me when he was really
telling me the truth.

I used to draw blood in order
to feel something when in
actuality I was feeling
everything.

I have a notebook, a pen
and a bag of pretzels; the
tunnels of light to escape these
walls.

A wall I can’t see.
Strangers I don’t trust.
Friends I send away…

Maybe I should have spoken
Spanish, that way more
people would have been
able to call my bluff.

Funny.
I prefer Spanish food over French.
Save for Wine – Tequila makes me sick.

I hate teenagers.
I’ve discovered this in the past year.

Maybe it’s time to learn a new language.