Am I all that remains? Am I all that’s left? Am I the dregs at the bottom of the cup?
What do you do if you are left with only part of you and that part misses the other part and they both feel familiar which is the same as feeling right at least right now and I crash land trying to make my thoughts plain trying to defend my feelings when I don’t understand them myself but they deserve to exist and it should be okay that I’m having a rough time being alive I keep thinking that there is some grand collective that can reject or accept me and I just haven’t gotten it right yet like I’m that babe in the woods who doesn’t really understand the point of all this and if there is a point then it must be beyond me I must be behind I’m left behind. All that’s left is me and it must be because I am trash You don’t treat valuable merchandise like I’m treated. I speak in the present tense not because I am in a bad situation but because the worst experiences in my past are bothering my present and I feel it like he’s right there right at my nose right in my ear I’m wrong I’m wrong wrong genes wrong face wrong attitude wrong person trash person. I’m like the discarded plastic wrap that protects the other toys in the package I’m flexible and supportive and I display the things of value without being desirable myself I take care of them and have no higher purpose wtf can’t complain I can’t complain can’t just be grateful you selfish girl selfish is this what you think will get you to Heaven
If I started out as a peice of fruit but Big Brother owns all the juice inside my skin, am I what’s left? Maybe I’m the rind. The peel. the pulp. The remnants of a whole person. Whole. What if I started out like this and I’m mad because I’m selfish I want more than other people have I convinced myself that I’m fucked up and now I think I deserve compensation when I just need to suck it up grin and bear it bear up under the load you’ve imagined for yourself isnt it funny ain’t it sad look at the child naked and full of holes who thinks she’s in prison but it’s all in her head. Look at her jeer at her remember children remember
Even now I’m fulfilling a purpose of his as a reminder of the horrible fate that awaits the branches who try to walk away from the tree that birthed them. When will I be able to escape when when soon please I keep trying even when all I feel is pain and I can’t tell the difference between life as a person and life as a dead branch. And yet.