Stab my baby in the head,

oh Editor,

carve and masticate

my offspring in your name.

Wield your knife with

mercy and precision that the

death may be quick,

the blood profuse enough to

stain my hands so they

will never wash. Thus

I can never forget

my trespass on your

high sensibilities, and

my work upon your

next sacrifice may be

touched by the brutal,

necessary red.

i've spent my whole life

wishing to be unnoticed.

hoping to slide by

away from society's eyes.

people i didn't know

said my name in the hallways

and it scared me;

being noticed.

when i moved out

of that school

suddenly i knew no one

and no one knew me.

the world was big and vast

and most people

had no idea i existed.

i was a drop of water

in a flooding universe.

i was small and insignificant,

just how i'd always wanted.

finally, i knew

i could come and go as i please

and no one would notice.

i'd walk under the metal detectors

and no one would stop me

if it beeped at me.

i'd wander the halls at lunch

and no one would tell me

to return to my class.

i could go anywhere,

do anything.

i had power.

i had everything i'd ever wanted...

didn't i?

i'd read too many books,

seen too many stories,

of the underdog becoming a hero.

i wanted to be the underdog

so i could become the hero

but i never really succeeded

at being either one.

i was born into privilege

and chose to throw it away.

i was born to be forgotten

and i realize now i

never wanted it that way.

i wanted to be loved

to be seen,

but i also wanted to rise.

and you can't rise

when you start at the top.

rather than fighting my way up,

i fought my way down,

clawing myself deeper and deeper

hoping to find myself a sob story

so i could become something more.

but all i got was darkness

no easy way back up.

now i'm trapped in the hole i dug

and i can't fight it anymore.

when people ask me "why"

i can't give an answer

because my life has always been perfect.

the only imperfection here

is me.

i've dug myself down

thrown dirt in my eyes

and then sobbed until i'm red

hoping someone hears my cries.

maybe there's something wrong with me

maybe i deserve this.

because no one comes to help me.

(maybe i'm a toxic person)

maybe the reason that no one shows

is because every day that hunger grows.

hunger for eyes, for attention, for love.

even though i recieve it every day,

i want more.

but i've succeeded in making myself invisible;

no undoing it now.

the only curse i have

is the one i've brought upon myself.

now if only i could

convince myself

that my life meant something.

but it doesn't. not a thing.

i dragged myself down,

and i'll drag you, too.

I am just like everyone else.

Stiff white sheets don't prevent the stain of dreams.

I realized life has chapters that end so others can begin.

I didn't know that I was cookie cutter example of whiteness and privilege.

When do we become other people?

The moment we realize our pinky promises were nooses.

Have you ever looked at other drivers while you're driving?

They are traffic, just like you.

Make a wish. A penny will do.

Every mirror is used.

conversing with strangers behind the stand

i listen and they

talk and

talk and

talk

how i ache to tell them that

maybe we are not strangers

that

“i am just like you”

or even

“you are just like me”

on the bad nights it is

upsetting but

maybe

i should be glad

that a reflection of me can be seen in

the small parts of people

everywhere

that there are

so many different versions of the same life

solidarity

in our differences

what a beautiful thing