Guilt
I’m going to tell you a story
Of a teenage girl,
Who,
Like many others her age,
Follows the same routine
Every single day.
School.
Work.
Homework.
Repeat.
Sometimes, but not always,
Sleep proceeds homework.
She starts off her day
By making sure her sister,
Older than she,
Is up.
She remains quiet at school,
Not wanting to poke
The bear we call
Social hierarchy.
She’s expected to know
All of the answers.
A scene is made
If she’s wrong,
But if she’s right,
It’s an
Of course, she knew that
In the same
Tone and manner where
Someone would exclaim
The interjection “Duh!”
So instead,
She remains quiet,
But takes the blame
When nobody speaks up.
She’s the youngest employee
At her work.
And perhaps it’s because of this that she receives
Unnecessary blame.
Charged with something
She didn’t do.
But she still must remain quiet
Even though the voice
Inside her head
Is ten times louder than the voice
That blamed her.
Even though she wants to shout
“It’s not my fault
That someone who has more experience driving
Hit your side mirror,
But I just seem like the most likely
Suspect.”
Or:
“It’s not my fault that
You come to work
After having a bit
Too much sleep
And you can’t remember
Where you put your tips.”
And even after these long days where
She’s forced to
Keep to herself,
But take in all of the blame,
She still goes home,
Listens to her sister
Endlessly complain about work,
Waiting for a break
So she can go up to her room,
And begin
The voyage
Into the list of never-ending homework.
Often times,
Her sister comes in and questions her,
Wondering why she spends so much time alone,
Asking how she can go
So long
Without human interaction.
“You’re not very
Normal
For a teenager.”
Why?
Is it because she puts effort into her
Academic life
Instead of her
Social life?
Is it because she refuses to give in to
Herself
And instead gives in to
Everyone else?
Accepting blame,
Claiming she’s guilty
Of something she didn’t do.
The truth is,
All teens experience this,
All in a different way.
We all want to whisper the phrase
I’m sorry
But we don’t know why.
We’ve repeated the phrase
I’m sorry
So many times
That we’ve desensitized it so much that
It’s as valuable as the penny
You say is lucky,
At the bottom of your pocket.
We’ve begun to believe that by saying this phrase,
Maybe we are to blame.
Maybe we’ll just grow up believing that everything is our fault.
Maybe everything will be our fault.
Maybe everything is our fault.
We’ll never know
Will we?
We’ll just live our lives
Building up a surplus of guilt.
I’m here to tell you a story
Of a teenage girl,
Who,
Like many others her age,
Is being weighed down by false blame.
And this delusion is what makes her
Stand in front of you today.