I can’t remember the day I decided to tie the knot.
I don’t even remember when I decided it was time to pick up the rope
or when a rope stopped looking like a rope
and started looking like an escape route.
We used to climb them in gym
and man it was dreadful,
I had no upper body strength.
Was that a sign I would never be stronger than the inanimate weave of rough fiber?
Whenever it was,
I must’ve chosen to tie it.
Perhaps it was every time I chose to do something
I didn’t want to just to make somebody else happy.
Or just less angry with me.
Or maybe I tied it when I skipped school to stay home
or told people I was okay when I wasn’t just so I wouldn’t bother them
or because I didn’t know what to say.
Nonetheless it’s tied
and I feel it around my neck every day.
It’s always there,
chafing on my skin,
reminding me who’s in charge.