Smile

v a l e r i e

You're half hazardous and something pulled out from needles and tears.

You're my inner child that's been robbed of normalcy and you're seeking so much comfort I can't give you. I can't even give myself that.

You feel alone and uncool and out of place but I don't know what else to say to you. I can't lie— I won't do that to you. I won't tell you that you'll keep the same circle of friends and your favorite peanut butter spread is waiting for your sticky fingers in the kitchen cabinet.

I wish I could but time changes things and kills and drains the color out of our eyes. It drained mine and I'm so sorry my poor baby. My skin wasn't thick enough and whatever this thick feeling— heavy like bricks is keeps me from telling you that things are fine.

You don't draw things anymore. You only admire the art Stephen used to make and the pieces from strangers, unrefined and gorgeous as they are.

You wake up and hate that you were born female and hate every female just because they're that, females. God, you— we need therapy.

We're losing parts of ourselves and it's out of my control. I look at you and I'm immediately appalled because we'll grow and become bigger just to use that space to house our hatred and the tears we couldn't cry because we were told we couldn't.

It's not my fault but I'm indebted and feel the need to apologize.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Forgive my weaknesses.

Forgive my naivety.

Forgive all of me.

I'm the adult but I join you to kick and scream because it's not fair— we know it's not. You look at me and don't like what you see, this present me you and tammy appall.

Tammy less than you— you can't even look at me. I'm a failure to you and your feelings are valid and in the past where you reside you don't understand what it means to bend and break with everyone else in the world.

Things are harder than you know valerie, take it easy on yourself and your father.

If I had the right—

If I had a say in what I could change— I would've picked you up from school hours earlier than your parents, held your hand and just sat with you. We would've been under the worn roof of the pavilion walkway in the vast field just by the gate and enjoyed the breeze in the warm afternoon.

I would've told you you're so beautiful and that I loved you because there's no use warning you about what'd you turn into. I'd tell you to enjoy the breeze and touch your face with sticky hands and pinch the soft baby fat in your light skinned cheeks.

I would've brought you in for a hug and stayed there till the closing bells rang and you'd have to go home. I'd watch you run to the car, a silver honda, excited to sit at the front.

And when the car speeds away I'd pray that short encounter with this tired version of you changes something in your soul. You'd still be just as exposed and unlucky as I am, but you'd learn to appreciate the little things and find happiness somewhere in that.

Valerie,

you'll get older and keep making jokes about ending it all while fighting trying to mar your skin when the door closes. You'll cry in your pillow and wish things were easier, you'll make excuses for people and you'll feel so alone when you're burning.

You'll feel like dying.

That the option is so much easier.

But I promise

it's just the feeling inside of you you're itching to kill.