Waking up without the Grim Reaper

Wed, 06/26/2019 - 15:06 -- nlovee

When i was little i was afraid of dying 

until one day i wasn’t anymore 

i prayed for it

my childhood ended.

5th grade

elementary school

 

i don’t remember how it started 

but i remember begging my mom to buy me a long sleeve sweatshirt 

black 

i remember wearing it every day 

even in the summer when the sweat would drip down my forehead and back

i remember everyone telling me that it was too hot to be wearing long sleeves 

i remember telling them that i wasn’t hot 

i remember lying to cover the scars on my arms 

i remember being scared someone might think i was being abused 

after all an eleven year old girl cutting her own wrist was shocking 

rare i guess

i hadn’t even gotten my period when i first decided i was done with life

a child who hadn’t seen anything but everything all at once

 

i grew up fast 

faster than most i assume

i figured things out quick 

realized that life didn’t look good for me 

a female in a mans world 

an African American in a society run by whites

a minority

a poor child surrounded by the wealthy

i wasn’t like them

and at first i was fine with that 

until i realized what it meant 

i remember hating my body 

my dark skin

my fat 

my hair that wasn’t as straight as all the other girls 

 

my life wasn’t bad 

i mean it was average 

i didn’t starve

i had a home

i wasn’t beaten or abused

but i felt lost

 

i don’t think i was the typical candidate for depression 

i didn’t really fit the mold

i was just sad 

i cried without a reason to cry 

 

i always felt like nothing

empty i mean

like silence 

the sound of air and stillness

 

growing older didn’t help much 

i used to hate birthdays 

i didn’t understand them 

why we celebrated something our mothers did

why everyone was happy to be alive 

i used to blow out candles secretly wishing for death

which i get is kinda fucked up

but it’s the truth

and i’ve always valued honesty 

 

i don’t know when that all changed

i mean i don’t know if it truly has 

 

my middle school experience was spent in various mental hospitals 

pills 

diagnosis 

self harm

a suicide attempt 

 

but everyday i didn’t harm myself 

every day i tried to be better 

it got harder to fall 

to let myself fall

i told myself “you’ve worked too hard to give up now” 

 

i believe i have a purpose 

if only to write this poem 

but i think it’s more 

i hope it’s more 

and i spend every day searching 

 

i can’t remember the last time i was happy 

truly happy.

and i want to feel that 

i want to feel something warm 

something that engulfs me but doesn’t feel like drowning 

i want to feel alive 

 

i honestly don’t know what this poem has to do with growing up 

i don’t know what growing up really means i guess 

 

when are you grown? 

is it a mindset?

an age?

 

i feel like i’m still growing 

i want to do so much 

i want so much out of life 

i want to sing 

to write 

to take photographs 

to feel 

and i guess wanting that is growing up.

 

waking up is the hardest part of my day

but doing that over and over again 

breathing whether i want to or not

that is growth

that is life 

my life 

and the day that stops being hard 

the day that i wake up happy to be alive and not wishing for more sleep 

that is the day i’ll know that i’m grown 

 

 

p.s

to whoever is reading or listening to this

i know this is probably not what you want or expected to hear 

people like stories of growing up to be wrapped in sugar 

but that is not me 

and my poem is far from sweet 

but it isn’t artificial 

and that’s good enough for me

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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