I've always desired to become older
to become stronger, more experienced, more alive,
so that they would listen
so that my pain would have meaning
so that every time I cried it was worth making a noise

but here I am.

the migraines last longer.
my patience runs shorter.
if a sleep a moment past two I fall apart-
I am weak.
and haven't improved the slightest since then.
I can work a million years and run a million miles,
chasing those dreams and the warmth of their fleeting joy,
but I'll always come back to you,
my stupid,
original self.
because no one cares if a baby were to cry,
such a thing is normal.
your pain is normal; there are those who have it worse
therefore I will ignore you, as you are worthless,
and I lose none when you are in pain.
I have nothing left to bargain,
to make you feel the need to care,
you looked behind the curtain,
you know me too well.

My lies no longer enchant you.
You know how worthless I am.

And so here I am,
sitting in square one
with tears that pass by discreetly,
falling in their silence.