"Excuse me
If I may
Turn your attention
My way
One moment
I won't plead
It isn't much
It's what I need
And what's
so small to you
is
so large to me
If it's the last thing I do
I'll make you see
If you turn from me
You darken my sun
You snap that thin thread
I call my horizon
And I'd like to remind you
Of something small
That the rock in this pocket
Could cause your fall
And what's
so small to you
is
so large to me
If it's the last thing I do
I'll make you see
I might be out like a light
Extinguished in the throw
But I'll hit my mark
And you'll know
Because I'm really well acquainted
With the span of your brow
And if you didn't know me then
You'll know me now
You'll know me now
And what's
so small to you
is
so large to me
If it's the last thing I do
I'll make you see...."
- suzanne vega.
*
i can't take anymore of this. i can't believe that i continue to be this fucking misunderstood. what's to understand? i don't even know what's real about my past anymore; how much any of that really matters.
because when i come to you in your white coat trying to believe that you'll be the one to see me suffering on the inside and HELP me. i don't comprehend throwing me under the fucking bus like you have. i do not comprehend.
and no wonder i don't have any faith left in the power of language, the power of telling. because when i have, you have nodded solemnly and changed the subject as fast as you could, or you talked over me as loud as you could to not hear me, or you told me that i wasn't trying hard enough. or, and this is the worst, you aimed on empathy with pat answers and simple hallmark platitudes.
let's review. i came to you, desperate and afraid, and you turned away or patted my head until there was nothing left to do but just go home.
how long did you think i'd keep screaming about it? how long did you think i could hold up when this was my worst fear come to life?
he used to look at me and taunt me to tell someone. he told me no one would believe me, no one would take me seriously...and son-of-a-bitch, he was right. because you haven't. and this is what has paralyzed me with fear this week: that there is no help for people like me (whatever that even is anymore) and i am doomed to die in this bed.
do y'all just not GET how hard i fight everyday to beat this shit? to be stronger, tougher, faster; to rise above it?
how do i learn to fight for myself when there's never been anyone to show me how? when i really don't even believe that i'm worth fighting for? i need an advocate. someone with the power to make some shit happen, someone who can make phone calls and be pissed on my behalf.
i need HELP. and i am so ashamed. it feels so weak to even have to ask the universe for that. i used to be the girl who kept a million plates spinning all the time but my god, it took it's toll, and i can't go on like that.
you don't know how i have lived. you know nothing about what i went through everyday of my life for years and years with no escape. you know nothing about torture and trauma and how fucking lucky i am to even be alive. you do not know. so until you have asked and actually waited on the answer, stop pronouncing me what YOU want me to be, and listen to where i AM.
it's nights like this that if i weren't so overcome with fear and doubt, i'd have taken to the streets and burned the motherfucking city down in protest.
it's nights like this that i am confronted with all that i cannot leave behind. personal fault?
family legacy.