My mother says that when she was was younger, she was scared of the lord.
More scared of the lord then her own parents and I, I am desperate for my mother’s approval and I am scared of her truth.
More scared of her truth then slowly slipping away into a dark place in which I may never return.
I am terrified.
Terrified of the chaos buried beneath back of my terrible brain.
I am terrified.
Terrified of admiring my own shame and maybe I blame this shame on my mother for never telling me that *** was ok, but it’s still shame and that’s all that matters.
For years, I never thought that I mattered. That maybe, the world would be a little less violent, people would be filled with a little less silence if only I was gone. Disappearing into space like I never truly existed.
But I have never truly existed, have I?
I walk around with terrible secrets strapped to my chest like they belong there.
If only I could say, “ mom, I like girls. I like the way they look sometimes even more then I like boys.”
And if only I could speak. If only I had a voice to preach and It’s a shame that young girls feel the same!
My mother says that when she was was younger, she was scared of the lord.
And I, I am scared of something that can actually be seen. Of something that you don’t need to look in a book and read. Of something that doesn’t seem that far away.