You’re angry with me
Because I am me, not what you want me to be
Lashing out at something you can’t even place your finger on
But I know what it is you feel
What you see
In me.
You.
I pull the covers over my head
Shut out the light
Please someone just make the pain go away
I’m angry with you, too
Because you’re you, not who I wish you could be
Me.
Inside myself so completely I can’t come out and face the world
Where I feel I’ve never belonged
Tuck myself more into my cocoon
Of blanket tangled up and twisted
Keeping me unable to rise and get myself up and out.
I know what you’re angry at
My inability to function in a life full of dysfunction
My inability to make you feel my arms wrapped around you while you hit and bite and push me away.
Maybe I’m the same.
Maybe I need to be held, to be loved, too.
Like you.
Even when I lash out and shout and push you away.
You think I run
From what is hard to take, hard to place, hard to feel, hard to fake.
You couldn’t see me slowly dying.
You can’t see me now, struggling for life, for love, warmth and safety.
All your eyes know is that I have always been removed from you.
Abandoning you.
When all I’ve really tried doing is figuring out which door to open and walk through in order to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So the shell of me at least can be here, supporting you however I am allowed.
The only way I can.
Being me.
Breathing one breath after another breath.
I’m so caught up inside of me
Under my covers unable to rise.
How can I find strength to carry you
When I can’t even carry me into the next room?
I’m angry too.
And understand so much more than you can ever imagine.
Maybe you’re supposed to hurl your disappointment into my chest
Maybe in some way, like the blankets wound around my ankles
That will make me push
Through
And back
To you.
