Here’s a little story
About a daughter
And her family

See the daughter has depression and anxiety
But the mother is oblivious
The mother is unaware of the depression
She genuinely believes that cutting and the fact that her daughter goes to therapy are linked to anxiety

And yet
Even though the mother seems to think that it’s only anxiety
Meaning that the anxiety is that extreme
She still wakes the daughter up
By screaming
She still questions the daughter
In front of a crowd
She still yells at the daughter, overwhelms her
And sends her into a panic attack

And yet all the people on the outside see is a mother worried about her daughter
And trying to help her
By taking her to therapy
But they don’t see the locked doors
They don’t see the screaming
The name calling
The belittling
They don’t see
That the mother
Is the reason that the daughter
Has to fight
So **** hard
To want to live

They don’t see that the daughter is only happy with her friends
They don’t see the scars on her arms, legs, and hips
They don’t see that the daughters only escape is when she’s not at home
They don’t see that the very therapist the mother takes her to
Is proud of the daughter
For staying alive
In such
Rough
Circumstances
Blood doesn’t mean family

But enough about the mother lets move on to the father.
The father that refused to pay child support for the first 3 years after the divorce
The father that had a second child, the daughter’s half brother, with another woman
The father that is engaged to a different woman now
The father that, when evacuated from his city due to a fire, took his fiancé to Jamaica instead of seeing his kids
The father that forgot his daughters birthday
The father that is “old school”
Which just means
Sexist
And homophobic
Blood doesn’t mean family

Next is the sister
The sister that supports me
The sister that laughs with me
The sister that understands how I feel
The sister that helps me when I need it
The sister that believes in me
That loves me
The sister creates fun and amazing stories and experiences with me
Just because she’s in the mood to have fun
The sister that raised me to be a good person
That taught me
And teaches me
How to get through life
Blood doesn’t mean family

Finally
The friends
The friend that gave me a reason to live
The friend that gave me a reason to laugh
The friend that showed me that it can get better and that they love and care for me and they don’t just “hope I get through this” but that they are going to be there and make sure that I get through this
The friend that marched with me with a rainbow
The friend that treated my relationships the same as straight ones
The friend that told me she’s open to the experience if I want to kiss her
The friends that I can flirt with and we laugh about it
The friends that I can flirt with and it becomes a little more than just friends
The friends who maybe I’m not as close with but who still show interest in my life and what I’m interested in and let me talk about activism because it makes me happy to empower people
The friend that made me believe in beautiful
The friend that stayed up with me when I had a nightmare about my molesting and help my hand until I fell back asleep
The friend that stated up all night on FaceTime singing songs together from our favourite band
The friend that boosts my ego when we go to the gym
The friend that cried when she found out I self harmed
The friends that worry about me and want me to get better
The friends that live far away
The friends that live close by
The friends that have shown me more love and happiness in the past year than I’ve known my whole life
The friend that was there even when I felt numb to the world and they just let me be but they made sure I know they’re here
The friends that ask questions when they don’t understand
The friends that are interested in what I do
The friends that offer me a place to stay should I need it
The friends who make sure I eat
The friends who worry when I don’t eat
The friends who sit at the back of the bus
The friends who get drunk
The friends who throw skittles at people
The friends who are in my class
The friends who are older than me
The friends who are younger than me
The friends who help me with homework
The friends who show me there are good people in the world
The friends
Who stick by me
And show me
That
Blood doesn’t mean family

We don’t choose the situation we are born into
But we do get to choose
Who our family is
So thank you
To my real family
For not only keeping me alive
But making me happy to be.

i’m trying to see what you meant
-when you said she was our kind of beautiful.

our skin is the same, a pimple in the same place,
and the same hair and color.

but have you seen your eyes?
in mine they looked golden.
and then green.
and then yellow, brown and back to gold again.

i know you’ve felt my hair,
and it felt softer in your hands
-you made it beautiful.

the comb, the brush
and my only regret was i didn’t do yours.

i also remember this
-you said you liked this clip,
this dress.

well the dress is still hanging,
and you can be sure i’ll wear it,
next time.

sometimes
            
                i really want a juicy ripe deliciously sweet pineapple on a hot summer day the way the juice drips down my chin as i devour the sweet succulent fruit


other times

                i might want a healthy green fruit to snack on such as an avocado feeling the rough interior skin only to cut it open and find the soft green buttery deliciousness inside i love the way my lips feel as the smooth flesh hits my throat with flavor

you see
                
                i like both of these fruits being bisexual is like
enjoying these fruits i will always like both but on some days i might want more of the other but no matter what i will always love both

The third stair from the bottom always creaked.
I always forgot,
So I’d always get caught.
The bi-annual outburst of my rebel-ness always resulted in tears.
And blue hair.

I bought darker lipstick from Walmart, back when
we lived in a small town.
I’ve worn it, but
never outside of my bedroom.
Never worn any lipstick, outside of my room.
Mom would freak if she knew I had it,
just like when my shorts didn’t cover my knees.
There’s a reason I wear leggings so often.

I can’t wait to get out of this place-
Hot, crowded, cacti.
I’ve said it before,
and I’m making plans, but everyone says
“you’ll be back in two years.”
I don’t want to. But I’m scared I will.

My sister claims I’m going to get married right out of high school.
Considering the .5 dates I’ve gone on, I’m doubtful.
And to who? who knows. She’s expecting a guy.
I’m not so sure- of any of her predictions.

she was lain on my bed,
fully clothed,
and **** at the same time.
**** because I've seen her,
the true her.
**** because her smile was natural,
not forced.
her laugh was intoxicating,
her voice was addicting.
the simple touch of her hand,
brought fire among my skin.
I've seen her,
and never have I ever,
seen someone as beautiful as she.
she was lain on my bed,
and now it smells like her.
so now as I lay me down to sleep,
I hug my pillows and covers to me.

You know.
It's true what they say.
That once you fall asleep in the arms of your lover,
You can't sleep alone anymore.
Something doesn't feel right.
Something is always off.
The feel of her body,
Her warmth,
Her breath,
As she lays behind me,
Clutching on to my waist,
Is a feeling that gets you intoxicated just thinking about it.
Gets you high without realizing it.
You do that once,
You can't not do it again.
Because then you'll constantly feel alone.
In the dark.
Always thinking back to a time,
When she was lain behind you,
And when she held you close,
So close that you almost morph into one.
So now as I lay here,
Clutching onto a pillow that smells of her,
I keep hoping that this pillow,
Will turn into her,
So that I don't have to sleep alone tonight.

the difference between feeling guilty
and feeling ashamed
is that society creates shame
and guilt is within yourself.
and i do not feel guilty for who i am.


― something i learned about being queer

Not a day goes by that I don’t think
about the way your hands felt
intertwined with mine, or the way
your hair gently danced on your
shoulders, or how your dimples
would form into canyons when I
made you laugh, or how your
freckles were their own tiny
constellations in the night sky,
or how the sound of your voice
could calm the harshest storms,
or when I kissed you it felt like I was
myself and I was comfortable
with you, with us... and I can’t
shake the feeling that maybe
somewhere I went wrong... I was
silly to hide you from the world
when you deserved to be every
billboard in the world. I was young,
and you were the first girl I ever
kissed, and that scared me.

t.h.

she is so beautiful.
just looking at her
makes my heart race.
her smile is the most beautiful
thing, besides her existence.
talking to her is a breath of fresh air.
she's everything i want.
she's everything i need.
yet,
she's everything i can't have.
she and i, we have a love that is
forbidden.
the places we live are not real homes.
we do not feel safe,
and so we hide our love.
closed doors,
far away places.
we hide where they cannot see.
they can't see her lips on mine,
or hear the words we exchange.
we hide from the ones we love.
our families,
we love them,
but if they knew the truth,
they would no longer
love us.
in their eyes,
two girls in love?
"it's just a phase."
they'll say.
they could never
understand us.
my darling,
you and i are forbidden.