All I Ever Wanted

I’ll admit, I’m selfish

I have a greed for things that I don’t have

The list of things I want fills encyclopedias

Dictionary-sized lengths of words telling of my desires

I can’t write it all out without aching

I’ve hurt my wrists in attempts to spell it out before

So I’ll do it again

Because I want to

Unfortunately, I can’t tell of all of it

My days are numbered, and so is my computer memory space

My playlist is only so long to keep my mind running

Without it ending up on the run

So I’ll tell you this much

What I want most

The desire that’s been dug into my skin

Embedded into my wrists but done with Sharpie ink rather than a blade

Because I’ll never risk giving it to something I tell those I love not to do

Told to my poetry and those willing to listen to me rather than my sentences

All I ever want

Freedom

I know, the word is broad

Seven letters that could cover seven thousand other subtopics

But, like I said, I’m selfish

But let’s clear out some of those lengthy possibilities of what I mean

I’m not speaking of chains and locks

I’m not speaking of human rights or laws

I don’t even care to be free of rules or time or deadlines

You see, I’m a prisoner

I’m being abused

Don’t call child protective services just yet, though

It’s not like that

I’m held down and beaten by something out of the control of physical law books

Handcuffs and court have no say in how I can get free of this

These padlocks don’t have a key or combination

And my scars can’t be seen by human eyes

Because it’s all in my head

Up here, where everything can be kept secret

But just because the only things on my wrists are bracelets doesn’t mean I’m not in pain

Doesn’t mean that my words are less meaningful than the other person’s

I want to be free of myself

My racing mind and beating heart are the bane of my existence

They tell me things and test my patience

Trying to push me to the edge of my rope just to see if I’ll fall

Whispering to me every time I stutter in my words

Every time I pick up the phone

Every time I get called on in class

I put on a new shirt

I try a new style

I draw a new picture

I get my facts wrong

I stand up on stage

I drop my bag

Everything I do, my mind is right there

“You’re stupid. Everyone’s judging you now.

They’ll never forget this. Neither will you.

You’re so pathetic. I can’t believe you right now.

How do you even have friends? I bet they can’t stand you.”

But it’s always quiet

Told to me in a voice so small and gentle that I can almost trust it

Barely pushing in the thoughts by the pinkie finger

Planting the tiny mustard seeds comparable to faith

So when they’re watered they bloom

Watered with flash floods

Random, unexpected, out-of-the-blue waves

Middle of the night, middle of class, middle of conversation

Knee-buckling

Gut-wrenching

And I write letters to me, but just in my head

My pens and paper don’t need to hear it

“I hate you. I hate you. You’re terrible. You’re unwanted.

Nobody actually cares. You should be gone right now.”

I don’t want this

I don’t want any more of these words

No more chains and bruises and abuse

I wish minds had a rulebook

I wish you could put handcuffs on thoughts

Because I want freedom

I’ll be okay with not having much money or friends or talent

I’m okay with a lack of love from other people

I just want love from myself

I just need to be free

I’m not too selfish

That’s all I ever really want