My First, True, Best Friend

We’ve gathered here to celebrate
This wonder, perfect, and happy date
Because this day that’s come again
Is the day that was born my first, true, best friend

I’d like to ask if you remember when
We would choose our outfits from a costume bin
Or when we’d jump on the couch and play pretend
‘Till the ceiling was hit and we’d count to ten

All the laughter and bruises that each of us had
As we each had our turn being rolled in a sleeping bag
The hours playing games in the basement we’d spend
And how you’d boast about how you would always win

Eventually the games and costumes we outgrew
But I’ll never forget watching movies with you
Over the years we stayed somehow connected
A direct side effect of our friendship perfected

In many ways we’ve not stayed the same
But there are things between will never change
So thanks for the memories, let them never end
And thank your for being my first, true, best friend

I was 4 years old when I walked into school with my over-sized backpack and a smile to match
I didn't notice that I was different
I didn't feel different
The other kids refused to share in my oblivion and I felt like the freak you said I was
I couldn't go outside because I would get questioned, mocked and stared at
I was forced to defend my family tree with every turn
At an age where we are the most accepting
In a grade where we are the least like to judge
I was ostracized and mocked
I would beg my mom to tell me I was adopted
Because then I would have something to tell them
Maybe then they would stop
But I wasn't adopted. I was “special”, a “miracle”
One day she slipped up and called me an “unexpected gift” and I knew it was a lie
She just couldn't bring herself to say “unwanted”
I would find myself staring at my crayons as the other kids colored
And I thought, I would look for the one marked "Strength" to color me in
Because maybe that is a more acceptable color
But I only found shame
My teachers gave me books and “multi-ethnic crayons” and told me to ignore them
Let it go
Sticks and stones
Like it was somehow my fault that I was the freak and not theirs for making me one
Given the choice, I'd choose the broken bones

I changed schools
People would chase me down at the store and ask me the same old questions
They would ask my mom if I was hers
They'd look at me and say "really"
It wasn't until I was 13 that my mom came in my room crying saying we needed to talk
I knew it was bad when I saw my brothers sitting at the table and my mom made me sit on her lap
A conversation that started with “your dad is your dad by choice” changed my life in more ways then I can count
She told me of the act made against her
that forced her to move across the country in fear
And how she was going to give me to a family that looked more like me
I was my mom's Scarlet Letter
That was the day that I truly hated what I was and what I represented

50 years from The March
and I still fight the questions off at work and school
It is 2013 and people are confused when I walk with my mom
And two blond-haired, blue-eyed boys my brothers
High School and still crying at night and already begging for an end

I watched as other kids in my class would walk the same path I walked
Maybe their story would be different, but their destination was not:
Self-hatred and depression
We became a clan looking for strength in each other, hoping to find the power to get through the day as we ran out of gas but kept going
Because we are used to running on empty
A girl getting made fun of because her forehead was larger as her mother told her it was because she is smart
She was the middle-mad passing drawings of herself from point A to B
She cried as the other girls laughed at her
A boy who's family didn't have the money for food but had enough to buy cigarettes
Who looked after his sister as they walked to school in their hand-me-down clothes
Both happy and horrified as he watches his sister float through school with no problems
As he sits by himself because if he is touches something
It will be infected with his germs
As if you can catch lonely
Breathing to close to him
A girl who gets pregnant at 14 by an 18 year old that promised her the love she never got at home
And left her when the deed was done
Raising 2 kids at 17 trying to finish high school

These are the crosses we carry with s for the rest of our lives
Feeling alone even though we know there are others suffering with us
Trying to empty ourselves of emotion and thought to numb the pain of existing
Believing all the things you called us because no one told us they weren't true
And knowing that we were going to wind up alone
Because if you can't love me
And I can't love me
Why should I expect someone else to
Never accepting a compliment because it feels like a cheap lie
Lashing out at those around us because we want
For one second to think that someone feels what you feel
That you aren't as crazy as you think
We want you to feel the pain we feel
But at the same time not fully because care too much
We are the self-made martyrs
Hoping that this foreign species we call friends might understand
But it's when we lean the hardest on those that claim to love
That they take a step back and yell at us for falling
When I begged you to tell me I was worth it, that you loved me
You said I just wanted attention
When I tried to open up, to see if this was truly a two-sided friendship
You told me that I never cared about you and I was selfish
But in reality
Everything I did was for you
Don't ask me what's wrong because I only know the word "fine"
But that one word is loaded down with so many truths that it's breaking my back
It's the reason my shoulders hunch and it's what pushes me to the edge of that cliff where I can make that escape
Don't ask me why I'm upset because it physically hurts to talk about it
But God I want you know the answer

So let me tell you something
With as much as you beat us down
To the point where we are standing eye-level with the underside of dirt
We are still standing
We may be unsteady
Tilting and tipping from one side to the next
Though it looks like we are seconds from crashing, burning and breaking
And believe me, it truly feels like we will
We are stronger than you will ever be
And when we win
We are going to look at you and say “*******.
We made it”