They

I want to leave but not be called a quitter.  They will see me.  They will watch me leave.  They will think.  They will kill me. Not actually kill me.  But they will call me a quitter. And that will kill me.

I want to say no and not be pushed to say yes.  I want to say no and not have to hold my breath.  I want to say no and not be forced to say yes.

I want to say I love you and not be called crazy.  I want to say I want to be with you and not be called clingy.

I want to rest and not be called lazy.  I want to work and not be called obsessive.  I want to runaway and not be called a coward.

I want to to be brave and not be called stupid.

But They is keen.  They is harsh.  They controls me like a drug, and I cannot quit her.

I want to weigh myself and not be asked my weight.

I want to just love someone and not be called a faggot.

I want to laugh and not be called a fool.

I want to cry and not be called depressed.

I want to feel sexy and desirable and not be called a slut.

I want to stay in and not be called agoraphobic.

I want to faint when I see blood and not be called a girl.

I want to look at myself and not be called vain.

I want to think that I am pretty and not be called arrogant.

I want to do something wild and not be called reckless.

I want to stare and look at an engine and not be called a day dreamer.

I want to walk up to the most beautiful person in the room and not be called a reacher.

But They is keen.  They is harsh.  They controls me like a drug, and I cannot quit her.

I want to say I’m over it and not have to be told I’m in denial.

I want to say I love him and not feel like I should know I’m wrong.

I want to try something that is deemed to fail and not be called insane.

I want to say, “I want to love, I want to be loved, I want to love” again and again and not be called desperate.

I want to run out into the green. I want to run into the crisp air.  I want to see my breath fuming into wind. I want to run and jump until my body doesn’t make any sense. And I want to stop and hang up my bra on a branch.  And the rest of my clothes, I want to rip off with my own bare hands.  And I want to scream so loud I can’t feel the cold. And I want my hair to flow wild like a burning fire in the night that refuses to go out. And I want sing and I want to dance and I want to do everything that I don’t know how to.  And I want to be alone so there is no one to tell me I don’t know what I’m doing.

I want to move and not be called anything.

And instead I could move and not listen to what I’m called.

But They is keen.  They is harsh.  They controls me like a drug, and I cannot quit her.

Wise Words from Grandma

A Blue Drink