Changing your last name won’t get rid of the ache in your heart.
Don’t believe him when he tells you that you are making a mistake.
Remember that he never had a right in the first place.
You are worth a fight. Even though he never fought for you.
And that this man who raised you desperately wanted you to love me the way he does.
Being adopted really is the greatest gift you can receive.

Love,
Your 20 year old self.

My heart yerns for inspired words.
But I don’t have them.
I could write about my blessings but people only like poetry when it hurts.
I could write about pain but I’m determined to live life like it doesn’t hurt right now.
Even though it’s excruciating.
I feel so much yet have no clue how to express it.

I used to wish that I would forget all about him.

How one morning I’d wake up and I wouldn’t even remember his name.

But I feared the thought of my disdain,
Sadness and and resentment of him resenating like a stain on a shirt that won’t go away but you can’t remember what caused it.

I thought that would be worse than just remembering everything and just choosing to move on.

I turn 20 in a couple days...
I remember hearing about what you did to my mom when she was 20.
How you took advantage,
How you decided her future for her.
She was probably so hopeful and full of life...
Then you came in and knocked her up.
Told her she wasn’t worth it.
Promised her that you would treat the baby as horrible as you treated her.
You claimed she and I ruined your life.
You were “so young”.
She was only 20.
If anything you ruined her life.
With me,
With the memory of you.
If you look at me, would you have justified what you did to her at only 20 years old?

Somethings are better after.
You go somewhere and you find that your soul can be free.
You see new things that shape your views.
You meet people you can’t imagine living without.
And the people you thought you couldn’t live without seem to fade a little.
But maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Because when you come back and it all brings tears to your eyes.
You know that you will never be the same.
And that is definitely not a bad thing.

I helped build your walls.
You knocked them down again and again.
I knitted you a blanket to hold you together while you were breaking.
While I was breaking there was no blanket for me.
I gave you all of me
I saved you oh so many times.
I have picked you up with my bare hands and put you back together like glass.
I bled too.
But since your stars didnt seem as bright as mine
You decided to walk away.

My world is beginning to shake again.
The ground is starting to crack,
The houses I built are starting to crumble.
I spent so much time fixing my houses,
Planting flowers in the ground to make it look presentable.
Flawless.
Perfect.
And again, I am starting to break
All over again.

You tell me that you are going through hell.

I nod

I tell you that I am going through my own hell too

You look at me and laugh

You say to me, "Show me, show me your wounds."

But I can't.

You shut me down

If I show them then everything I am working towards will only

d i s a p p e a r

So instead I shake my head and agree

Because I can't tell you that my hell is bad too

Yours is the only one worth crying for.

Maybe I always try to reach out because
I still have a thread of hope that you’ll be there.
And that you’ve changed.
But your not.
And you don’t.
And I don’t think you ever will.

You aren't here anymore
and it's tearing me apart.
You were the one who showed me my wings,
you gave me reasons to keep going.
You told me to keep writing.
So I will write for you.
Thank you
for showing me that I am worth saving.

I did not say goodbye because I do not love you.
I love you more than I love myself.
I said goodbye because you did not see that I made myself into the moon, so you could shine as the sun and I'd...
just be your shadow.
But I am the sun.
And you are the moon.
It is time for me to shine.

I think of you as the sun.
Brightly shining down on my world.
Giving me what I so desire.
But then there comes a time where you disappear.
And I get cold.
I get scared of the dark and cry until I see you appear again.
I crave your attention
Long for your touch,
I am addicted to the way you feel.
You are the sun.
And I am a flower.

What is this i feel?
                            A sense to speak,
             A need to say something.
                                                     Yet the words,
      They fail me.
                  Yet the feelings,
                                     They go away.
                                                   I sit in words i cannot say aloud,
In the void of nothing.
          I feel nothing.

I.
                                                    ­       Am nothing.

                Mirrors are bullies,
                           Fathers are abusers,
Toilets are comforters,
                                                     ­    Yet I still feel nothing.
         Yet I cannot find the words…
                        to express the nothing I feel.
Why?
                                                      ­     Why do I hurt?

               No one understands,
                                     I don't understand.
    I am an empty well.

         Why do I continue to swallow pills to make me sick?
                              He tells me I am beautiful…

                              She tells me I am not fat.

   How come I roll?
                                                          How come I don't fit in like they do?

                                                  Why do continue to write him letters?

                           How come he hasn't showed up in seven years?

    How come no matter how many times I tell him

                                                            ­                      I forgive his abuse
                I still get angry
                                               And want to die?
  Why do I want
                 What everyone seems to be so afraid of?
                                                             ­         Death
So sweet
                                       Asleep forever.
                                                                ­  In a place where I don't have to
                Feel
                                            The
Nothing
                                                                ­ That
                         I am.

“I’ll see you in six months. I promise.”

Well, it's been 7 years.

"Someday, I'll be treated like a grown-up."
"Someday, we'll be married."
"Someday, I'll finally have it all."
But, what is this "Someday" everybody talks about?
Longs for?
Waits and prays for?
Does "Someday" even exist?
Why not live for now?
Live for today, not someday.
Maybe to human race just made it up to give themselves hope.
And a goal... Something to live for.
But what happens if "Someday" really comes?
What will happen after that?
What's next?
Has any person lived long enough to tell the tale of this "Someday"?
And if anyone has, will they be so kind as to tell me when?

How do you know when you are in love?
Is it when you are giggling your heads off at 12:30 over a bagel?
Is it when you haven't seen each other for a week and you can't keep your hands off each other?
Is it the way he looks at you when you are rambling on about your passions?
Is it where you two are snuggled tightly together after a long day?
Is it when you thank God for this beautiful person every second you are with him?
How do you know when you're in love?
It is when your future is in one person.

Sometimes I look at pictures of you just to convince myself that you are real.
Not just a monster that I dreamt.

One day when you look back thinking who was wrong, and who was right.

You will realize that it did not matter, what mattered is what it cost you.

You will realize it was not worth the pride you refused to let go of.

You will realize that you lost something so much bigger than your stubbornness.

You will regret everything.

And I, will be here setting the world on fire.

With the matches I stole from you.

What did all this cost you?

It cost you,

Me.

I want to write something that matters.

Someday we will meet again and I will have the chance to forgive you for leaving on such short notice.

Maybe that same day we will meet and you will have the chance to apologize for leaving on such short notice.


Someday... Maybe...

I am a people pleaser.
My goal in life is to fit in the boxes people want me to fit in.
When I disappoint someone that I have tried to morph to satisfy.
I cry.
Why do I care so much about what other people think?
Because without all those people in my life,
I would be all alone.

It is okay for me to get excited about seeing you.

I'm not obsessed.

I am simply in love.



Don't you feel the same?

Dear 12 year old self,

don't believe him when he says that he'll never leave again.

don't believe him when he says he'll be back in six months.

don't believe him when he says that you didn't love him anyways.

don't even think for a moment, that he is good enough to be apart of your life.

Just don't, never, ever again.
                                                                                                    Love,
                                                                            your 19 year old self

Sometimes I look at you. And you actually smile.
You smile like you don't know me.
Like you never broke my already shattered heart.
Sometimes, you laugh at the things I say. genuinely giggle.
Like you never stole my laughter,
And didn't give it back until weeks after.
But I knew that you were a train going full speed towards a cliff.
Why did I get so attached?
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I smiled back.
Sometimes I wonder what you think of me years later.
I don't think about you.
Yet I decided to write this. About you. About us.
Sometimes I wonder if you hadn't broken my heart with five little words.
Sometimes I wonder if you had said to me,
"I love you."
Instead of,
"I'm sorry, I love her."

The darkness came over her at a very young age.
The age where a child should be happy… be free.
For she was no longer free, set in chains like a slave.
She told no one, how could she tell anyone?
Which became the chains of slavery  that little girl bore.
She longed, she dreamed to be free.
But held on knowing that it was the only thing keeping her alive.
But as months grew into years, as she became older,
the hope drained from her once green eyes.
There was no more hope.
She knew she wouldn't seem again, only in her haunted nightmares would she see his cold, lifeless body searching for someone to hold onto…
Something like her.
She cried.
She screamed.
Those chains kept her from innocence.
Those chains broke her, she couldn't be strong anymore.
Those chains kept her from love, kept her from trust.
She lay convinced that no one could help her, understand her, love her.
She couldn't see Me.
I understood what she was going through.
I loved her more than anyone ever could.
I tried to help but the grudge she had only kept Me away.
I knew she was angry with Me for taking her father away from what she thought was too soon…
She didn't know I took him up here.
With Me.
She only knew that I took him from her.
That's why she fought,
Why she hid.
She put on those chains hoping they would comfort her.
Too soon figure out that they made her feel worse.
Isolated. And alone.
She just didn't know that she would see him again very soon.
She didn't know those chains were drowning her in a life she didn't want.
I cried for her.
My beautiful child who just didn't yet understand.
She just didn't know how much she was loved.
Then finally she broke.
As I stood behind her ready to catch her broken soul,
I whispered into her ear, “I love you.”
Then out of the chains and into my arms she fell.