I Tried

I tried to tell you 

 

 

When I was twelve years old

 

 

That I was experiencing something I couldn't nor wanted to explain

 

 

But explain I did, because I trusted the fact that you were there for me and I was only twelve and for the past year I had only had myself

 

 

I tried to tell you that I had thoughts that wouldn't go away 

 

 

That I would think things most people wouldn't think about of others

 

 

And how everyday I screamed at them to leave but they just stayed

 

 

Their presence meaningless to my character as an individual but destroying any and all my sanity

 

 

And at first I thought you understood, you nodded along with my words like I was some preacher talking to a church 

 

 

I thought I was no longer alone, spending dark nights laying in bed wondering if there was any way to atone for the events that played out in my head

 

 

But then you began to brush aside the very reason why I cried every night 

 

 

Like I had found some symptom on the Internet and diagnosed myself with a form of OCD

 

 

I know you wouldn't say it but you thought I was simply a kid making up some story

 

 

And when I brought up therapy so I could finally begin to understand that I wasn't an outlier from a society that didn't advertise that people also went through what I did

 

 

You got angry

 

 

I could hear it your tone, screaming at me to be normal, to put a lid on the apparently crazy nonsense I was spewing out that you thought was an instance of childish fabrication but was really me finally taking a chance at reaching out to take someone's hand rather than my own since I was eleven

 

 

You claimed you didn't understand 

 

 

But how could I tell you more than that?

 

 

How could I tell you that every time I passed a knife I was terrified I would take it and stab someone without any warning 

 

 

Or that I laid awake every night in a cold sweat trying to ignore the fact that I could get up and cut through everything I had ever loved before it was morning

 

 

That every time a gory movie was on TV a sick feeling bubbled in my stomach and rose to my throat like it was my morals trying to leave my body to be replaced with thoughts that scared me more than the images on the screen ever could

 

 

That these thoughts were worse than any cold because while my stuffy nose would go away these plagued my mind nearly every moment of the day

 

 

And any activity I did only momentarily got rid of their existence, I would be care free for a few minutes only to come crashing back to what I thought was my sole reality

 

 

HOW COULD I TELL YOU

 

 

That sometimes while I sat in my sixth grade science class my feelings and thoughts mixed together like some overcooked stew 

 

 

And the only thought that was actually mine was that maybe I should get rid of myself before I crack like some overused spine but then I wanted to cry because I was only twelve years old and I didn't want to die

 

 

I didn't want to hurt anybody but it was like my brain was a constant battlefront against who I was and some outside force that wanted to reign, my emotions taking the brunt of metaphorical chains wrapped around me like armor of shame

 

 

And the only thing that resulted from this constant fight was the feeling of utter confusion over why any individual would have these sort of thoughts, intentional or not, and why this had happened to me

 

 

Me who had once been a silly-kid but now hid behind a mask of smiles and laughs so that no one would suspect that every day I thought about death

 

 

And though I never wanted to admit it and the thought of doing so today still makes me want to run away, here's the unfiltered truth

 

 

Since before I was even considered youth I had thoughts that weren't my own about hurting people I know

 

 

And though I can admit that now

 

 

Back then I was too young to understand that I wasn't the only one, that every 4 out of 5 people experience intrusive thoughts that don't represent who we are but rather what we are terrified of being

 

 

But despite my lack of knowledge on the topic and words to describe my feelings at the age of twelve

 

 

I still tried to tell you how I felt

 

 

And while I didn't expect you to understand, all I wanted was you to tell me "it'll be okay" and hold my hand

 

 

Because I was frozen with fear and who else could I tell besides you who wouldn't look at me like I was some washable smear

 

 

And while you didn't treat me like I had feared you instead acted like this was something that would go away on its own

 

 

And after six years I can finally go about my day without being prone to the thoughts that had once made me hide under the covers to pretend they would disappear like the dark 

 

 

The suffocating feeling I would often get is a stark contrast to the vague memory I sometimes reminisce   

 

 

But occasionally I do lay awake at night, when my mind is too quiet and I almost can't accept the peace so I unwilling think back to old times

 

 

And all that I can remember is that I tried

 

 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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