A Façade

Everyday I’m told

That you love me,

no matter what, no matter what

”You’re a good person, be proud of who you are,

because I am proud of you.” I always smile when you say that. I always smile wide.

But then you turn around, say that I’m a burden

“Why can’t you do this right? Why are you like this? What did I do to deserve a daughter like you?”

I always look down and numb myself to this. I’m too tired to say anything. You wouldn’t listen to it anyways.

Would you? Would you? 

I wish you would. I wish I knew why I felt like this. I wish I knew how to feel anything but this. 

You say you accept my flaws, say it’s part of what makes you human.

But do you? Do you? 

You can’t accept others, when they have the same flaws that I do. 

And there are things you don’t accept, even if they aren’t flaws.

Why can’t she love her? Why should it matter to you who she loves? Why should it?

I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you I’m just like that woman you so actively renounce for who she loves. 

I wish I could tell you that I’m terrified of you finding out

because you always tell me

”It goes against nature, it’s wrong. It should have never been legal.”

You raised me to be like you, but I’m not. I’m not. Can’t you see that? Why can’t you see that?

It hurts. It hurts so much. It hurts so much

that I have to numb it. Ignore it.

Otherwise I’d crumble faster than ever before. My façade is my only shield.

My façade agrees with you, my façade apologizes for what I’m doing to you.

It smiles at you. It laughs. Makes you believe it’s genuine.

God, I wish it was. 

Wish you could actually accept me. Wish you could see me as me. Wish this was healthy.

Wish there was communication. Wish there was tolerance. Wish there was compromise. 

Something.

​Instead there’s “I told you so.” “You look like a witch.” “This isn’t good enough.” “Because I said so.”

”Because it’s what’s good for you.” “Because I know best.”

” Because I love you.”