day 276

The day my mother finds out I am on a dating website, she will kill me. The day my mother finds out that I am queer, she will summon me from hell and kill me again. As an attempt to protect my rights, I will tell her, "Well... At least I set my location in New York!" She will contemplate her parenting skills and realize that not sending me to school in New York was the best idea she's had in my lifetime. The day my mother found out her friend's son molested me, she sat in shock, told me it was okay, and asked "What did you do for that to even happen?" As an attempt to protect my rights, I will tell her, "IT WAS NOT MY FAULT!" and she will continue to pat my back and tell me it is okay. A year ago, I had planned to go to a university in New York to study film. I wanted to capture the embarrassment of all the boys who have ever kicked me deep enough into the dirt that I found family in wilted flowers. The day my mother finds out I was a mistress to a pretty girl in my freshman year of high school, she will kill me for breaking up a home. We grow up with our roots entangled between strong men with calloused hands. When my therapist tells me I am healing very well from sharing my writing, I will ask her if people ever come to her to share happiness. She's a gentle woman with strong morals. She reminds me of my mother. When my therapist asks me if I have anything else to share, I bite my tongue from telling her I am deathly afraid of men. She will ask me if I am seeing anyone. I will say everyone that is anyone. I like to find pretty girls through dating websites and tell them that they are beautiful. I wonder if their mothers have already summoned them from hell. I break my teeth amongst the steps of my keyboard. I trip from confessing too fast. My feet are always ten steps ahead of me. When a girl I've met through a dating website tells me that I am beautiful, I will bite my tongue from asking her if her father is a silent walker and if her mother sleeps in bathtubs filled of nails. I will stop my ears from bleeding when she tells me, "It was not your fault" and I will build her a home out of dirt. I will tell her, "When I lose all my teeth, bury me underneath the floorboards. Do not patch up the ceiling when the rain finds its way inside our home. You've given enough closure to grow a garden out of me."