Now Playing Tracks

Respect

What is respect? Is it just people having the politeness to say yes ma’am no sir? Nah.  Is it people talking about you and your supposed to laugh? Nah. Is it people not understanding or trying to understand you? Nah. It’s people take all those things into consideration for your feelings. Why is it that I give people that but not reviece it? Why is it that I’m just “bought” to do things? Why after 4 years of cleaning everything that still I get nothing? Its not enough I know. In this house for me it never is.  Its better to just give in and drone out the words. Is it fair that people live in and out the house for years and can act however they want? How is it that I’m still wrong? How is it that no one takes my problems into consideration? Why doesn’t anyone ask me “how are you?” or even ask if I want to talk but- nah I cant do that. I have to wait for someone not in my house to ask me and cry when I tell them whats going on, then just listen as I tell them my feelings. Therapy? No black people don’t need that( Essay on Racial Stereotypes).  So what do I do? Drugs? Nope. Just leave when I feel like it? Nope I cant do that( still trying to get lessons to drive so…..). Yes I’m pretty much stuck with just myself. Is that good? Of course not but to everyone else its my fault. Because everyday during high school they were in the halls so they just know. My own special celebration for actually graduating was ruined, needed more I guess. So I write, everyday I drown myself in music, It’s just a joke to everyone no one wondering what is she drowning out? Why does she need it? It’s like she’s addicted they say turn it down you just blah blah. That’s all I hear, I don’t respond I don’t believe I should have to. Everyday up and down, the words are running around wanting to be said, but I put them down. Every night I remember what people say, “ you don’t have to get me another actual glass, I don’t want to put you out…” Am I a maid now? I am I know, every now and then I try to rebel against it, but it never works or lasts. Everyday I’m cleaning this and that, fetching glasses of water, turning off this or that. Smh it’s sad that this is my life and I let it happen, I don’t like having to be dependent because it comes with a price. But I’ve been handicapped from things most kids can do. 

I remember

Even though my memory is slowly getting worse i remember this week clearly. It was the week of my eighteenth birthday, i was excited to turn legal at least. But over the past months i had lost all strength in my left arm and couldn’t walk straight. My family blew it off for awhile, it was my fault of course. But eventually we ended up at a neurologist and he gave the suggestion of MS. My parents blew it off again. After multiple tests it was confirmed….I had MS. I remember being in the hospital for three whole days getting steroids…i remember having a needle stuck in my back….i remember trying to keep my eyes on a sticker….i remember being stuck in a tube for three hours…multiple needles drawing blood. But how is it that i remember this so clearly but i don’t remember the way to someones house? Don’t remember names, numbers like i used to. ‘someone has it worse’ they tell me. But i just look at them i’m your daughter i want to say, what about me? I remember laying in bed after being release not knowing that my life had changed. But six months later, after being legal for almost half a year, i was bitter. I was mad and depressed, no one even looked up my disease but me? if they loved me wouldn’t the be involved? but no. Eighteen and friendless with a disease and everything being my fault isn’t the way my life should be. But it is. So everyday i lay down to sleep and my mind wanders back.. back to being careless and happy and smart..being who i am…I remember.

To Tumblr, Love Pixel Union