My memories come back in strange forms.
Sometimes in scents, or the way a boy says his "S's".
Sometimes they don't feel like memories at all, but
dream-like visions instead. Hazy and messy.
I used to dream of a perfect family.
A family that talks and laughs and cries together.
But the memories flow back in waves, drowning
out that vision of perfection.

As a kid I loved to escape inside stories of masked
men on horses, trolls that live in back yards, and
dragons flying somewhere across the world defending
damsels and castles.
I believed fairies came to me in the night and
whispered songs of love into my ears.

But no fairies ever came as long as I was awake,
and my young years were nothing like
a love song or a fairytale.

I try to think back on what made me smile.

It's sure as hell not the memory of my childhood best friend's
funeral, and the power ranger he left me on the alter.
It's not the memory of when the bully in class
mocked my favorite rain jacket, and being so hurt I
threw it in the trash on my way home.
It's definitely not the memory of those older boys at
the lake holding me down, when I had no
idea what *** even was,
thinking kissing made babies.
How silly was I.

Now I'm grown and my skin looks more like armor.
I know that kissing doesn't make babies
and fairies don't exist.
I know that losing my friend didn't just
break my heart, and that bully who hurt me...
Well, he's a nobody now.