01/05/09

You don't believe me,
you won't listen to me.
How can I tell you things when you won't listen.
It's my fault that you feel this way,
I was the one that made you feel sad,
I was the one that abused you.
I don't know what to do any more.
You accused me over something stupid, said I was looking at you but I chose to talk with my friends and leave you sitting there waiting.
You said I was neglecting you on purpose.
I tried to tell you that I really didn't see you but you just kept yelling.
Screaming.
You swore at me over and over and over,
I wanted to cry but i couldn't so I laughed.
You thought I was doing it just to spite you.
You think I do everything in spite.
You say I am miserable, so very miserable,
and that I go out of my way just to be miserable.
You say I search for it, I look in every nook and cranny until I find some small, dimeer, trace of misery.
You told me that I make it hard for you to be a parent.
You say I make it incredibly hard.
You tell me I treat you both horribly, and that I have no respect at all.
You tell me my mother feels the same.
You say I should move out.
So I reply "Fine"
You scream at me some more, until I try to say something but all that comes out of my mouth are laughs of confusion.
You jerk the car over onto the side walk,
and you shout at me,
you scream "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR, GET THE FUCK OUT!"
So I do, and then those tears which waited close together, confused about what they should do,
finally break out and in a uncontrollable river.
I walk slow at first, everything feels so heavy and weighed down.
I wheeze and huff, trying to breath,
but it's hard.
You turned the car around and pulled up behind me
"Get in the car!"
you shouted,
"MORGAN GET IN THE FUCKIN' CAR!"
At this point I really just wanted to be alone.
Thoughts of pulling my cold steel friend out and running it along my arm
flash through my mind at a rapid pace.
I wanted to be alone.
I wanted to go somewhere quiet and cry my eyes out.
"FUCK YOU"
I screamed
"FUCK YOU, NO!"
your tires spun on the ice as you pulled up in front of me.
"Get in the FUCKING CAR RIGHT NOW!"
I don't want to fight you.
I get in the car, my eyes probably puffy and red, smeared with the black from both the mascara and eyeliner.
You begin to lecture again.
I can hear you, but I block it all out,
for at this point I can't take it.
I know everything you said.
I took it all in after.
You accuse me of writing poems about you, just so I can guilt trip you.
You say I use them to help me manipulate you.
You tell me about how much you love me.
You drop me off at work and say
"I will always love you more than anything in the world"
Now who's the guilt tripper?
I run into work and break down in the back room.
I cry for at least 10 minutes until my boss walks in,
and thank God he came in.
He tried to help but how can you when your employee has problems with her family.
How can you when she tries to explain the problem but she doesn't even know what to say.
What do you say to a girl balling her eyes out, who says "I hate my self!"
What do you say?
After he left, i had no choice.
I grabbed my lifeline,
shut the door to the washroom,
let is bit me hard.
Deeper than ever before.
It bled, and I did it again and again.
It felt good.
I needed to do it.
I hated who I was,
I wanted to hurt myself so bad.
I wanted to cut to punish myself for being the person that hurts people.


YOU DUMB ASS SON OF A BITCH!
How dare you say I use my poetry for guilting you into being sad!
How dare you! I write to feel better, I write what I feel.
I know we have our augments ok!
I AM A FUCKING TEENAGER AFTER ALL!
A GODDAMN TEENAGER!
I can understand that I can be a bitch sometimes,
Your telling me.
I know this already, ok!
I scare myself sometimes.
I don't know where these moods and feelings come from.
I am scared I have a disorder.
BPD or Borderline Personality Disorder.
You don't know how many nights I stay up,
just thinking about the things I did that day, or the way I acted, and try to figure out why,
and I can't!
Do you know how scary it is,
to feel like you are watching yourself act and say things, and you have no idea why you are saying them!?
It's terrifying.
Do you know what it's like to go through these days feeling like our ugly and people see that.
Do you know what it is like to hate yourself because you feel like a fuck up.
I don't really think you know what that is like.
You told me that it feels like I don't love you or want to love you any more.
To be honest I don't know what I want to do!
When we were there, sitting in that car,
I wanted to jump out in front of a car, just so you won't have to deal with this any more.
It's hard enough going though some days feeling fine, then some where everything goes wrong and all I want to do I cut it out of me.
Do you know what it feels like to cut yourself then have to tell the one that loves you most that you did it again, and then know how much he worries about you.
Do you know what it's like to know how helpless he feels, and know it's because of you?
It's hard to go through days when you feel like killing yourself because of who you are.
Fuck you won't ever know how hard that is.

I don't want to be that daughter that makes it hard for you to be a parent.
I don't want to fight with you, and I never do.
It happens and I am sorry.
Yet it's not just me and maybe if you stopped fucking mom when you are divorced, it will be much better. { I presume that is what you are doing }
Stop sleeping at our house when you have some one else.
Is that not just fucking wrong!?
No one understands that! { yes I have told other people about it }

Just go see that whore of yours.
Go tell her how hard your fucking life is,
and how much your daughter "abuses" you and "manipulates" you into driving her places.
Tell her how much you wish I was different.

I don't know why things have always been this way,
and I don't know how to fix them,
but as far as I am concerned, for now, I don't really want to...

Morgan.