I swear
I don't drink

but it's 2:19am and
I'm ******* wasted.



I swear
I've been clean

but please don't
pull up my sleeves.



I swear
I take my meds

but don't look
in the trashcan.



I swear
I'm fine

but do you really
still believe me?

earlier, I was reading this story
about a kid who jumped
off the Golden Gate Bridge.

he said that
as soon as he jumped,
he felt instant regret.

this kid survived and
he has now become
a successful man.



I wonder how far
he had to fall before
he regretted his decision.

was it twelve feet down?
forty feet down?
two hundred feet down?

how far did he have to go
before he realized that
he didn't truly want this?



I am falling.
I have been falling
for a while now.

sometimes I feel like
I've hit rock bottom,
but then I see that I've
only slowed my descent.



how far will I have to fall
before I want to live?

what if that realization
doesn't hit me until
it's too late?

I am afraid that I might
finally see a purpose for
my existence, but by then

I'll have already
hit the ground.

"you'll understand
when you're older."

I was told that
over and over.

when I asked about
anything bad or scary
or even something that
they simply didn't
want to explain to me,

that was the response.



what's global warming?

is grandma dying?

will my parents ever
get back together?

what is suicide?
why would someone
ever want to do that?

why do I have to
look away from
this scene on TV?

can boys kiss boys?
can girls kiss girls?

what is ***?

drugs are bad, so
why does my mom
use them every night?

where is my big brother?
when is he coming home?

"you'll understand
when you're older."



I'm older now

and still, there
is so much that
I can't understand.



a black man gets
shot in front of his
children and family.

the person behind
the trigger is human.

how could a human
take the life of another
human with no regrets?



my brother was killed
on impact when his
car flew off the road.

my other brother
smiled through his tears
and thanked god that
he didn't have to suffer.
he thanked god for our
brother dying instantly.

what kind of god
takes the life of someone
so young and so bright?
why should we pray
to a god like that?



the last time I saw her,
my mother was just
a walking corpse.

she had bruises and welts
and emotionless, dull eyes
and a rib cage viewable
from outside of her body.

why did my mother
turn herself into this?
when will she die?
is it wrong for me
to hope that comes soon?



they told me,

"you'll understand
when you're older."

but all I understand
is that there are things
that were kept hidden
from my young ears.

I still don't understand
why these things happen
or who to blame for them
or if people are good or bad.



"you'll understand
when you're older."

I'm older now.
I don't understand.

I'm reading over the notes
that my therapist jotted down
during one of our first sessions.

there is so much trauma
and so many diagnoses.

my therapist says that
I'm not alone, and that
so many people know
a similar type of pain.



she's right. I'm not alone,
because I'm not the only
person to have a therapist

and because I'm not the first
person to be diagnosed
with these conditions

and because right now,
at this very second,

there is someone who
is reading this poem and
relating to these words.



sometimes this thought
is upsetting to me.

it depresses me to think
that other children were
raised by parents who
were like my parents,

and that they've faced
the same type of pain.



other times, this thought
is oddly comforting.

it hurts to think about
the children who grew up
the same way that I did

but it also calms me
to know that there
are other people
who are just like me,



because that means
there are people who
have survived this.

that means that
this is survivable,

and that even if I
sometimes doubt it,

it is possible to thrive.