I remember when I was young,
I’d listen to angsty music,
because I liked the rhythms of the strumming,
layered over a steady beat of drumming,
as my parents would fight about insignificant things,
and the wood of the kitchen where they would stand
would creak and creak and creak.
I remember I liked how classical music sounded as well,
and I would pretend
that I was a princess,
while sonatas would play in my head
as I danced around
an imaginary ballroom,
home alone
in my cemented basement
that resembled a jail.
I remember packing my own lunch and snacks,
and doing my own hair,
since the first grade,
because my mother had to work,
so she left early in the morning,
before I was even awake.
I remember all the other children
would get little letters
written on napkins
from their parents
wishing them well,
while I stared at my plate
of cold Lunchables
and a crinkled brown paper towel
that I got from the school cafeteria.
I remember going home the next day,
and spending an hour
forging my mother’s hand writing
on a paper napkin,
pretending that she had written it,
so that I would feel loved too.
though it didn’t feel the same.
I remember when I was young,
I met you,
and I pretended to always agree with you,
and I pretended to have no thoughts of my own,
because that made you happy,
because you had no thoughts of your own.
I remember when you said something,
I would smile,
because I knew you needed affirmation,
that you needed validation,
because you had low self-esteem,
though you had a beautiful face,
and a loving mother and father,
and a protective older brother
who loved you as well.
I think your lack of self-esteem came from
your own realization that you were sort of
empty inside.
I think you realized early on
that you were completely average
and unoriginal,
and you were scared of being insignificant
and fading into nothing.
I think you saw me smile
and it made you feel better,
but it wasn’t enough,
so I became an outlet for you,
because you believed me to be simple minded,
because that was the character I portrayed to you.
I remember you started to listen to the emo music
of my childhood,
because it made you feel special
and unique.
I remember I smiled
when you showed a song to me,
and I smiled
when you dyed your hair pink.
While we listened to the song
I had heard so many times,
so many years before,
I didn’t say a word,
enveloping myself in the sounds,
out of habit,
as I had done,
so many years before.
Because I was quiet,
you said that I ‘didn’t understand,’
and you put me down,
labeling me as ‘so mainstream,’
because that’s how I presented myself to you,
and I didn’t say anything in response,
only smiled, because I knew
you had low self-esteem, and I just wanted
you to be happy.
I just wanted you to be happy,
because you deserved to be.
I smile more than most people do,
because I was given so many opportunities to cry,
and so I have realized
the importance
of smiling.
I just hope that
you will smile too.
