when she was a freshman,
things were harder then they'd ever been.
her days were spent,
trying to figure out,
who she had become.
and she spent all of her time,
in her room by herself,
feeling lost and all alone.
wondering if there was anyone,
as different as she was,
who understood how she felt.
and her dad always worked late,
so her mom rarely cooked dinner.
and she would sit at the table,
eating toaster waffles,
and drinking all her milk
with the cat at her feet, her only company.
and when she was finished,
she would lock herself in the bathroom,
and watch the blood,
as it ran from the cuts that she made on her arm,
and dripped onto the cold tiles.
and she would hide it with a band-aid,
and no one ever asked,
because they didn't want to know.
and when she crawled into her bed at night,
she couldn't fall asleep.
and her mom never said "goodnight",
so she would cry until she couldn't anymore.
and things were harder then they'd ever been.

when she was a teenager,
things were harder still.
her days were spent,
trying to fit in,
anywhere she could.
and she spent all of her time,
with her "so-called" friends,
lip syncing to the top 40 count down,
and putting on pounds of make-up,
even though
it made her feel like someone that she wasn't.
and she watched her dad,
as he came home from work,
and instantly fell asleep,
as soon as he laid down on the couch.
and her mom called up the stairs,
to tell her it was time for dinner.
but her dad slept through the meal,
so they didn't eat as a family.
and they made small talk about their days,
and she drank water instead of milk,
because she read somewhere,
that it was better for her skin.
and after she was excused,
she would go up in her room,
and I.M. with her "friends",
and when it started getting late,
her mom would tell her to go to bed,
and kiss her on the forehead,
and turn off all the lights.
and when she crawled into her bed,
she didn't say her prayers,
because she was too busy,
trying to figure out
what she would wear,
the next day at school,
and if the friends she had tonight,
would still be there in the morning,
and things were harder still.

when she was an in-betweener,
things were no so easy.
her days were spent
trying to figure out,
exactly who she was.
and she spent her time,
watching her big sister get ready,
and wondering what she would look like,
with make-up on.
and she watched her dad,
as he dragged himself through the door after work,
and sat down on the couch,
and watched TV
until her mom shouted,
that it was time for dinner.
and they sat at the table,
as a family,
and talked about their days.
and she couldn't be excused,
until she finished all her milk.
and when she was excused,
she would go up to her bedroom,
and sometimes play pretend,
even though her friends,
said it wasn't cool.
and when it was time for her
to go to sleep,
her mom would say "goodnight",
and kiss her on the cheek.
and she would whisper her prayers alone,
even though she still didn't know
exactly what they meant.
and she would fall asleep,
wondering how school would go,
and what she would do the next day,
and things were not so easy.

when she was a child,
things were easier then.
her days were spent playing,
out in her backyard,
with kids from her neighborhood.
and she lived in the worlds of innocence,
and spend her time
swinging on swings,
and playing it-tag.
and watching her dad
as he showed her
how to swing the bat
and catch the ball with two hands.
and her mom stood in the doorway,
and called them in for dinner,
and they sat at the table as a family.
and she couldn't ask to be excused,
until she finished all her milk.
and when she was excused,
she could play outside,
until the street lights came on.
and then it was bath time,
and bed time,
and her mom would tuck her in,
and she would say her prayers,
even though she didn't know what they meant.
and she would fall asleep,
knowing she was safe,
and loved,
and cared for.
things were easier then.