The stench of nail polish fills my room,
As the words sent to me yesterday,
Run through my head,
The feelings I don’t understand,
Make me feel like a child again,
First learning how to read,
These feelings of anger,
And sadness,
And joy,
All made into this strange cocktail,
That I’ve never had before,
I could take advantage of this,
I could pretend it never happened,
I could,
Until the words that were drilled into my head,
Are repeated over and over again,
You’re overreacting,
You’re being unrealistic
Just talk to her,
Just talk to her Evelyn,
Be there when she gets home,
And talk to her,
Except why should I talk to her?                                                                                                  
When every other time,
And almost every example I’ve been shown in my life,
It’s run away from the problem,
Don’t confront it,
Like my old schools,
Like the people that bullied me,
Or like the people that made a few rude comments,
Because I was already too weak emotionally to handle it,
Or I could just keep my mouth shut,
Like I do every day,
Lock myself in my room,
And pretend everything's okay,
And lose myself in my writing,
Because why face reality,
When you can only take so much,
What if I am literally incapable of talking to her?
Because a few tears will turn into waterfalls,
Because I am too emotionally unstable,
My shaking body,
Made it seem as if there was an earthquake,
Shaking me from the inside out,
My emotions,
Too difficult to understand,
Yet when I try to ask someone for help,
Instead of showing sympathy,
Or calming me down,
It’s Evelyn,
You’re being unrealistic and overreacting,
She’s your mother Evelyn,
You can’t be so angry,
Except last time I checked,
It is human to be angry,
It is my birthright to have emotions,
It is my birth right to not want to talk to someone,
Except I had to talk to her eventually,
Her first words are,
Remember that movie you wanted to see?
We should watch it this weekend,
I kept my eyes staring straight at the road ahead,
Not speaking a word,
Because why should I?
If I feel as if I am going to be scolded,
For something wrong I have not done,
Or feel as if the lump in my throat,
Will explode into tears,
That turn into water falls as they run down my cheeks,
So I might as well keep my jaw clenched,
And not speak a word,
Until I get home,
And yell at myself,
For not being a good enough daughter,
For being whom I am,
I already hate myself enough as is,
So,
Thank you mother for a few more reasons,
Because I am only human,
I am imperfect,
I can’t always see light in darkness,
Yet I get scolded for having enough courage,
To tell the truth for once