Some people think I'm dramatic,
"She's gotta be fibbing-"
I'm not sure why people won't take me seriously
I'm always "too sensitive," never impressive

They wonder why I choose to hide,
Stay inside and never visit
Because they don't accept who I am.
They throw me in the family box for misfits.

These are confessions I can never send.
Because they blatantly won't understand
and that is something I need to get,
They don't care for me enough to accept the ways they hurt me and say sorry.

They are hypocrites,
Because they want me to stay weary.
They want me to always let go and cry alone.
They don't care if around them I'm woeful.

Mom,
You always said I was in the wrong,
Cleaning and chores were our only "bond"
You never chose me unless you could brag.

Dad,
You broke my heart,
You'd catch me when I'd fall
But never stuck up for me in the end.  

Mom chooses to make me a villain,
All I wanted was her acceptance
but she sees me as a sinner who's selfish,
I should put my pain aside and pretend I'm good.

I will be left to wonder forever,
Why my pain doesn't matter
In comparison to my sister,
Why am I less accepted when I'm in pain?

Dad loves me because he sees himself in me.
I look like him, we share a hobby
but growing up I believed that was the only thing he loved about me
Because one moment he'd be there, but would runaway when I needed him most.

Alone, he would listen,
He would say he'd help me
But in front my mom he was different.
Suddenly, what we said in the car was insignificant.

I'm an adult who doesn't know her needs, wants, and likes
Because I spent my life trying to be accepted.
No one taught me how to accept myself,
Or how to know what I need or want.

If someone cared unconditionally,
I clinged to them.
I hoped they'd never leave,
because I never got that from my family.

Now I'm in therapy, crying in every session
That I'm hurt again because of them,
Or hurt by myself because
I don't know who I am.

Every time I think I'm done with my walk
I take note of the street signs name.
I'm still not done talking with myself
Because I'm still on the street of Shame.

When I think about why I feel so badly
I can list my ideas for what's wrong with me
but when I reach the the house and open the door,
I remember how unheard I felt in my core.

8

She likes video games, reading books
and watching movies with family
She always day dreams
and plays outside alone, imagining.

She looks up to her big sister,
and likes to sing together in her car
Her little sister is annoying
She's always the shining star.

But together all three will walk to the park.

11

She likes to color, play guitar and sing
She dances in her room without worrying
One wall is covered with a teen pop sensation,
Others hold her poems and art that reveal her struggles and wishes.

She liked the attention singing got her
It made her feel like she was worthy.
She did her best to live up to
The things said by her family

13

She was sad often and preferred to be alone
She still played guitar but played games the most,
She liked writing poems and songs,
They let her express herself in any tone

She had plans to go far away one day,
with her best friend she would escape.
There'd be hello kitty tunnels
and fun had every day.

She fell victim to infatuation
which lead to many hearts being broke,
Forced to play outside,
she'd swing away her trauma while grasping ropes.

16

She's quiet, she stays in her room alone, she feels unwanted.
The internet is where she felt she belonged
Most people would hear her out
and wouldn't ask her to play them a song.

She was forced to go somewhere she was needed
She got an education out of it and an identity crisis.

25

She is independent, but still feels scared
She is working to understand her life
and is moving forward with care.

So don't call me Becca,
It reminds me of those years-
the times I was saddest and living in fear.

Becca had a mask that Rebecca has out grown.
The mask is smaller now and is becoming unsown.
It's been a painful process, the mask really hurt
This is where I'm at now, trying to unlearn.

I received a lot of praise
For my musical ways
and it caused waves
To crash around my heart-
Their expectations over my art
It ruined my passion
In a "Wonderwall" fashion
Singing over and over again
Into soulless eyes,
Made me feel like a type of prize
It was a lot of work to learn I'm not
I can sing and make music without being bought

I get ****** into expectations
I'm 25 but can't tell you what faith is.
I shut down when I think about saying no,
I guess I still care about what my family knows.

I'm 25 but 12 inside,
I don't know myself and tend to hide.
I have taxes, bills, a dog; my own life
But I'm still the girl who escapes online

I hate to hear their judgements; their insights
I try to connect through words
But say the wrong things,
and get lectured through sighs.

I don't know what I'm doing wrong,
I've tried and tried to find the cause,
I'm so frustrated, but go in circles
I keep looking for our bond.

What I really want is to disappear
Shut my eyes to the relief of tears.
To wake up as strums in the air,
To be a part of my own song.