Shorts & Newbies

You're 3. You're soon going to have a little brother. He's going to take up a lot of mommy's time. Don't blame him. He's a baby and he needs mommy just a little more than you do right now. You're so strong and independent, so funny and creative. You don't see it now but some day you will consider him a friend. You're 4. The fighting is going to end soon. Please remember that what happens next is not your fault. Daddy loves you even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it. Be patient with him. He misses you just as you miss him. I know mommy can't fill that space. Don't be angry at her for that. She's doing the best she knows how. You're 6. You're so friendly and beautiful. You are lovely and do not deserve what will happen to you. You are not to blame. Tell someone you trust. You are loved. You're 9. You are smart and kind and gentle. Girls can be so cruel for no reason and you don't deserve it. There is nothing wr

My eyes are open to darkness. I've long since learned how to make my way through isolation without the use of sight. I am confident in my movements and do not stumble or falter. A sudden, glaring light reveals an intrusion into my carefully crafted world of silence. It's talons are sharp and dig roughly into my surroundings, leaving deep, jagged scars. I look around in confusion, not recognizing what's happening to my sanctuary. I watch in horror as the intruder melds itself into everything I have spent so much time perfecting. Something foreign snakes its way into my consciousness so slowly it feels like a caress. I am not alarmed but rather curious so I welcome it openly. The whispers of promises are pretty and alluring. With my attention held I don't notice the chaos that continues around me. Selective words are sung into my ears, a lullaby, as if to a child to dream them to sleep. I close my eyes and listen, forgetting all about the destruction before my feet. Gentl

I rock back and forth, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. Over and over. They're late. They're always late. I bite my hand to keep from crying out. It's a better alternative than screaming. They've long since stopped caring. Finally. Finally. Finally. The small sliding door opens and the tray slides into my dark prison cell, accompanied by a straw. I finish quickly as a guttural cry escapes my throat without my permission. It's not enough. Never enough. I used to beg, banging at the door until my hands bled but they don't care. They've never cared. I pace the small confines of the room, back and forth, almost insane with need. All I'm asking for is a little more. Can't they do it just one time? I banish the thought. I learned a long time ago that more is sometimes just as dangerous as not enough. I pick up a small rock and drag it along my arm. The sensation a small reprieve to the gnawing hunger inside. I feel drops of blood run down my arm and f

This is confusing and frustrating - For my friends. Watching me make choices they know are no good but are supportive because they have to be. Hoping I'm okay and worrying about me every day. Thankful that I'm alive. For myself. I don't understand my decisions, thoughts or actions. I watch myself doing things, knowing I need to change it or stop but unable to do so because I'm not in control anymore. I feel adrift from my mind and body. I feel my emotions intensely. When you're at a steady level 4 - I am an uncontrollable, wild level 8. I get paranoid and distrustful. I let go of friendships easily. I overreact and am erratic. I make impulsive decisions and don't have healthy coping strategies. I am often misunderstood and taken the wrong way. I don't always think before I speak/act and I hurt people unintentionally. My brain is a spinning top that I am unable to slow down or stop. 

It is every colour all at once. It is expansive and claustrophobic at the same time. There are no windows. There are four bare bulbs centred on each wall, each with a different wattage that never turn off. I am plopped into this room without prior knowledge or consent. I grow accustomed, content and attached to this room. It is my home. I know the colour, I know the light, I know the shadow. Whether or not I know why I'm here, or even that I'm here at all, this room is safe. I must protect this room. People chip away at the other sides of the walls. Imperceptible at first. Sometimes so, that I don't notice the intrusion at all. I believe them safe to my room. But then they start to make changes to my home. What are you doing? That should be blue, not green. Stop it! Don't move that light, it doesn't belong there. That shouldn't be turned up so high, I can't see! They do so without asking and without permission. And then they leave. I am left n

Hello, my love. I've missed you. What did I do? Are you mad at me? You always do this! You can't do anything right! I love you. I hate you. You fucked up. I can't do this. Hug me. We're done. I'm sorry. Why do you want to dwell? You never let anything go! You just want to punish me! I love you. You are nothing to me. I miss you. Don't you want me? I need you. I love you. I never loved you. I'm done with you. What do you want for lunch?