Untitled Work #1.

These are about my struggles in adolescence. They are not pretty, and may be potentially triggering. It's also not meant to be a smooth flowing write. It's not cutesy or clever. It's true. And raw

"How are you?"

'F*****g terrific.'

"Fine, thanks."

What hurts the most is, being 7 years old and being told you're getting chubby.

Being told your teeth are golden, smiling wide, 

but they mean that your teeth are disgustingly yellow.

You're a child. All you have to worry about is when Courage

comes on TV. Until it's not. 

You don't know it at the time,

but you're adopted. You're so happy with life;

then your mother decides to make comments on your body.

She's bigger than you... why would she do this? Doesn't she love you?

It doesn't feel like it when she does that, so you continue to

invalidate yourself. The comments just keep happening. 

"You've already had a second helping," when you just came back in the kitchen

for a glass of water. "You're going to be as big as a house."

"You don't need all that." "Other people would like some too!"

It's gets so emotionally draining that you just deal with the hits. 

Physical and verbal... Sure, she didn't beat you. But once you became 13,

she started to punch your legs. Slap you. Belittle you. 

Laugh at you for trying to stand up for yourself.

It's her way or no way.

Your father just sits there idly, watching Nascar or something;

You grew up hearing you parents argue, or scream at each other for hours, every other day.

One day when  you were 8 years old mommy threw a ceramic plate at daddy, and you used that one sliver to cut yourself.

;on the History channel. He hears everything she says to you.

He just allows it to happen. He does not care how much you cry.

He just turns the volume up.

And so you stop going into the living room. Completely isolating yourself.

You're very obviously depressed, but, hell, why do you care?

Why does mom care if she is the sole cause, along with your unknown disability at the time,

causing school to be so f*****g hard to do successfully.

Your brother has failed multiple classes and he gets a stern talking to,

meanwhile, with you, it's the worst thing to ever happen, 

and is tearing the family apart.

You have stopped eating.

Your mom later notices but you simply state you're no longer hungry,

and that there's a vending machine at school you use lunch money for, because a lot of the time,

you can't afford lunch. Sometimes the nice lunch lady would let you get a cookie or bag of chips,

even when you had nothing, because she knows how much you hate peanut butter.

She's the one good thing that happens at school.

You don't eat.

It's gotten to the point where your body is constantly weak,

and you feel nauseous all of the time. 

One day your mother comes in through the door, and you don't hear her. 

You're shoveling whatever food you have on hand into your mouth,

not caring about the calories;

You just want to temporarily take the pain away of being fat and undesirable.

Even though this further contributes to that, you do not care.

You've been going up to 3 days with no food.

She still continues to make comments on how you don't fit into this or that.

You need to be put on a diet.

You are not even thirteen f*****g years old.

So you starve

Binge

Purge

Cut

Burn

Pull

Even though you're emetophobic, you make yourself throw up when you DO eat.

16 years old. Constant fights with mom and dad. About your grades, about your cuts, about your hair, 

about your lack of knowledge in basic f*****g math, (whattdya know, it's a real thing called dyscalculia, and you have it! Along with undiagnosed autism and a learning disability!)

 You think you hate your parents, but that's not true. You don't HATE your mother. Sometimes you just 

really loathe her for contributing to your sad outlook on life and lack of self esteem

Your father doesn't do anything, but somehow, he understands so much more than your mother.

They've threatened divorce so many times.

Your brother is a shell of the man he used to be due to a tragic accident on Halloween night, 7 years ago.

Your life is low class at best, living in a trailer, living in filth because your brother has weaponized incompetence

out the wazoo. Sure, things could be so much worse, but you have things to be grateful for....right?

Oh hey by the way your best friend in the entire world shot himself in the heart.

Oh. Alright, F**k me, then.

Did I mention all of my boyfriends were very toxic and I have been cheated on numerous times?

I got blackmailed into cheating on my first boyfriend. We broke up right on our 2.5 year anniversary.

All because of a dare.

Then, at 17 years old, you come clean to your mother about everything that's happened.

How your first boyfriend got you pregnant while you were sleeping.

She doesn't believe it, and you think she doesn't want to.

She just doesn't believe you. 

So instead you never tell her, when a year later, you best friend, Tyler Van Alstyne, molests

you at a graduation party in a pool. You have screenshots of you trying to confront him,

and him stating he remembers it differently, that he was drunk. His intentions weren't to molest you.

And the cycle starts again

The boyfriend has raped every inch of flesh off of your bones, and left you as a husk. He almost stabbed you, punched you in the stomach, and dragged you from under his bed because you would hide from him.

The best friend shattered your soul. He molested you for years, and you just played it off because you craved the validity of his friendship.

You go to college. He's such a nice guy, you really like him.

He introduces you to his friends.

The 3 guys at college. Yes. 3. Stripped away that bit of growth you had going for you.

You said no. Stop. Please stop. Don't. What are you doing.

Nothing works. 

I am so tired of getting nowhere.

I am hurt.

I am torn into pieces, slowly building myself up years later, now 21 years old.

I was in the psych ward in and out for a psychotic episode, suicide attempt, and suicidal ideation.

The screams, the "booty juice." 

The nurse that dragged me and purposefully stomped on my hair, dragging me around like a rag doll while I

was seizing in the day room. I wonder what that child would have been had I not miscarried. I blame myself all of the time.

I'm in agony.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I have three daughters, six younger sisters. I try to protect them. Your story is strong, honest, hard and true. I had to read again dear Riley. You allowed the reader to feel and understand the words and thoughts. Thank you for sharing this strong writing.
Coyote

[Alao Taiwo]

that's heartfelt and straight from wherever it came from. thanks.
be sure to improve daily, consciously.
#bootyjuice. I'm smiling