Sticks and Stones


I remember trying. 
I remember trying so hard to be happy. 
To be nice. 
I remember spilling the water on the bed. 
I remember the anger - my confusion. 
I remember apologizing.
I remember baking cookies for forgiveness. 
They laughed at my joke. 
"What took you so long?"
"There were a lot of cats."
I remember you telling me that nobody liked me. 
"They don't like your attitude - that's why I don't invite you."
To this day I have a hard time trusting the genuine compassion others give me. I question the smiles and laugh as if they are jokes, because it is far better to laugh along with those laughing at you then to stand and watch. 
I wonder - were you just trying to open up wounds, or close the wounds my existence made on YOUR skin - my awful "attitude."
Day after day, on days that I come into contact with people, I look into their eyes, their smiles, and wonder if they can see me 


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