I wish my mom new that I was failing algebra
That I can’t seem to solve for X to save my life
That I’m scared to open my math book because the wrong answer dance on my page like ballerinas in the black swan
In this case the black swan being the only right answer

I wish my mom new that the boys in my class laugh at me
That no boy will ever like me because they are afraid of being associated with me
That the boy I’m talking to isn’t my boyfriend he just wants my math notes
Funny enough I let down to people I one sentence

I wish my mom new that siting in a music class makes it hard to breath
That I can feel my heart pounding and my head go light
That I leave to go the bathroom so many times to fix my breathing that I’m pretty sure my teacher hunks I have a problem

I wish my mom new that I’m afraid of the treadmill
That it will open up itself and reveal sharp teeth waiting to eat me like dessert
That it will start with my cellulite for appetizers and eat my arms like I’m part of a 5 course meal
My bones will become dust and my skin will just be cells

I wish my mother new that I can’t control my anger
That when my breathing becomes rigged and my eyes get dark that it’s hard to see anything but red
That I have to count to ten and forget where I am to remind myself I’m not that person
That I can’t be that person
That I can’t let people talk about my issues like it’s some big headline on the times

I wish my mother knew this stuff
But then again if she paid attention to someone who wasn’t herself then maybe she would here my screams of help