by Jalecia Reid
I opened my eyes and now I’ve seen too much. It is always in my head; the present fear of becoming them. . I wish I could go back to being ignorant and happy. I’ve no reason to continue and I’ve no mother nor father. There is no road to success or any to happiness, it’s just bleak.
It is so hard being lonely. I am so tired. I am so alone.
My mouth is sewn shut. I hate you so much. You hurt me so bad. I will never speak to you again. I am all alone. Sometimes I wish I was never born at all. I will never forgive you.
You’re all consuming. Sometimes I feel like I don’t exist. I’m just a planet that’s been pulled into your orbit.
You’ve worn me down; eroded me piece by piece.
I used to stand tall and strong but now I’m afraid even my knees can no longer support the load of carrying you. I’ve got so many things to say but not enough patience to say it all.
We didn’t argue but I knew this was the end of us.
It was a quiet goodbye; one without words.
I’m better off alone.
God, I hate how much I talk about you.
You’re such a hypocrite but I guess if you’re one then I am too.
Maybe you’ve already realized it, but I don’t need you anymore.
I’m fine by myself. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself of that.
Are you able to experience the feeling of regret? Or are you too caught up in the moment to feel anything but numbness?
Does it nag you in the back of your head like it does mine that maybe we’re doing something wrong and in the future we’ll be just like those who hurt us?
The very thing we vowed not to be. I don’t want any apologies; they don’t mean anything.
How did I end up with you?
It wasn’t a gift but a curse.
Sometimes I think of what we could’ve been if you knew what was good for you.
Does it bother you that everything you wished for never came true?
Are you scared to go home? Say something, please.
Each time I call you I realize I can’t do anything but stand there and tell you how sorry I am.
How do you continue?
What’s keeping you going?
What do you look forward to?
What are you living for?
Is this all just temporary?
What do you see when I’m not around?
Sometimes I think this is the end until I realize you’re just a cycle who loves to repeat.
. . .
I am angry.
I am tired.
I’ve spoken far too many words that should not have had to be spoken.
I’m tired of leaving everything in some higher power’s hands.
I am a girl.
I am a Black girl.
Bound by societal expectations and generational dysfunction.
I am not a product of my environment.
I’m the product of a black girl picking up the pieces and doing her best to glue everything back together.