Diary of a People-Pleaser

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



Forwards and

sdrawkcaB (ha, get it?)


"Yes, ma'ams"


"No, sirs"

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

Disappointing myself

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.

This poem is about: 
My community


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