(no subject)
I don't know when I allowed myself to disconnect from this change. Did it happen slowly? Was it something that I should have seen coming all along? I am unaffected until cold, wintery nights when the roads are sheer ice and I can feel my heart beating fast in my chest. I am in a blue Jeep. Pop music is quietly playing, I can barely hear it but can still mumble along to the words if I tried hard enough. I gasp under my breath when your tires skid, you laugh like it's unbelievable for me to think something bad could happen. It wouldn't. Not with you. Knock on wood. But it's different. Different with you. Not in a bad way, in a comfortable way that I love. You know me the best but you don't acknowledge it. You are patient. New. Something that I am not used too.
I tip toe through my tricky past, and try to string together sentences to make you understand, where I have been and where I am coming from. When my brother calls my mom a cunt. When I cry to the phone to my dad.
Family. I understand the word, but don't know how to feel the warmth.
I am walking through a swarm of people that is your family and their faces are all blurring together, and your grandma wraps her tiny arms around me and tells me that I am a nice girl and that I am always welcome. I feel like I have changed. Your mom tells me she loves me. I believe her. She remembers I don't like butter on my toast, and always stocks her fridge with my favorite kind of pop for the weekend.
Friends. I understand the word, but where the fuck did they go?
I tip toe through my tricky past, and try to string together sentences to make you understand, where I have been and where I am coming from. When my brother calls my mom a cunt. When I cry to the phone to my dad.
Family. I understand the word, but don't know how to feel the warmth.
I am walking through a swarm of people that is your family and their faces are all blurring together, and your grandma wraps her tiny arms around me and tells me that I am a nice girl and that I am always welcome. I feel like I have changed. Your mom tells me she loves me. I believe her. She remembers I don't like butter on my toast, and always stocks her fridge with my favorite kind of pop for the weekend.
Friends. I understand the word, but where the fuck did they go?