Back then I was the Good Girl.
Resourceful. Bright. Empathetic.
Loud. Compassionate. "Spunky."
I had no reason to be afraid.
But I had every reason to be afraid.
Everyday as a kid, I pushed my self
My whole being really
Into making others happy
sdrawkcaB (ha, get it?)
Hoping and praying every night that someone wouldn't look at me and see me as
Less than or
Barely equal to
And the minute a classmate said something like
"Why are you darker than me?"
"Why do you understand Spanish and I can't?"
"What are you, a teacher's pet or something?"
A flip switched inside of me like the fire alarm
Begging them to
My fear was simple and real.
Disappointing my self-medicating, bipolar daddy who wanted me as a trophy
But not as a daughter or
Disappointing my white friends in Catholic school who wanted me as a pack mule
But not as an equal and
But never acknowledging where it all came from.
Why did I give such a strong shittake mushroom about what people wanted?
Why did I give off such a strong exterior but hide the sensitivity for only a select few?
Why did it take me so long before
The dam inside broke
And the tidal wave of 15 years of repressed sadness and rage started to bleed
Like a festering, putrid bubble
Popping in allll the wrong places?
I am not a stranger to fear.
The hunter that lives inside me, waiting to spring during open season
Preying upon the weakness of my heart
The openness of my soul
The unfulfilled hopes and dreams of
Turning my thoughts and processes a bright enduring scarlet nightmare-
But the war isn't over yet.
Because my anxiety seems to forget:
Everybody loves an underdog.