i tell you i cannot get out of bed and you use lazy like it is my first name, ask me why i didn’t just do my homework when it was given to me. i am shaking again and you let yourself smile. it becomes a game of how quickly you can make me collapse.
i don’t know what to tell you and that’s why it scares me so much. do you not think i spend enough time berating myself for sleeping late and forgetting my name and crying over yogurt, don’t you know i am angry at this too?
i tell you i am sick and you tell me to stop complaining about things i can change. i want to tell you that it isn’t so easy but i am too afraid. i know you only hurt me because you do not know this fear. you do not know this fear and i thank god every day for that.
on my good days i do stupid things like write you apology poems on post-it notes. they all come out sounding like excuses.
sorry i was just so tired
didn’t feel so great yesterday
must have been that seafood
pms, you know?
we are both wearing masks but yours is something cruel to cover something afraid and mine is something sad trying to cover something sad. you can make yours look just like mine when you have a joke to make.
here are the things that are the same about us: we both love swedish fish and hate me for crying so much. we are made of the same genes no matter how much we pretend we aren’t. we love harry potter and the rain. we pretend this isn’t real.
here is the difference between the two of us: you call this a joke and i call it a wednesday. you take off the mask and have something beautiful beneath it.