Things I Always Seem to Apologize For — I'm sorry that I don't fit into your ideals of beautiful. I'm sorry that for some reason the color of my skin already dictates my behavior and my past without a single word. I'm sorry that being black somehow means it's impossible for me to have mental issues because I'm too “ghetto”, that when I know I need help I can't get it because no one will believe that I'm actually serious. I'm sorry that I'm always so damn scared to leave my house because I'm afraid to be assaulted or worse. I'm sorry I can't order food normally, that the tightening in my throat when asked what I want doesn't release me from its hold and it takes all I have to keep the tears at bay. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough for you, that a simple black girl like me, who even dared to think she had a chance with someone outside of her race, attempted to do so with you. I'm sorry that sometimes I worry you, because I wake up at 6AM after only falling asleep (maybe) at 2AM and I feel my stomach turning, hungry for food, but I let it go, I deny myself that request because ever goddamn time I look in the mirror I can only see the reflection of something horrible, something so insanely grotesque that I can't stand to look at it anymore. I'm sorry I can't be the perfect student anymore, that the crippling stress from trying to maintain high grades, a social life, extracurricular activities, and still come home to chores and errands and more homework has taken its toll on me. I'm sorry I'm not the straight daughter you wanted, that whenever you look at me you see an abomination, and I can't stop it. I'm sorry I wasn't the daughter you needed, because after over a decade of no phone call, no communication at all, maybe you start to realize that your father lost love for you. I'm sorry that I couldn't try hard enough, I did my best but I was always lacking, I was never perfect, my testosterone is higher than most and I always feel so fucking disgusting when someone comments on my body hair, it's not like I fucking want it. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to say no, back when I was 7 and he was 17 and he told me he wanted to play doctor and I didn't know the harm in that until he touched a place that I grew up to realize that I shouldn't have. And again when I was 8 and he was fucking 27 and I was trying to enjoy my summer but somehow I still got onto your radar and you decided that you needed to torment me, show me things I didn't want to see, touch me places I didn't want to be touched and know that I wouldn't say anything because I was scared and I'm still scared dammit. I can't bear to be alone around a grown man without feeling like a silly cow being sent to the slaughterhouse, that at any instant they'll turn around and do things I don't want to, and I'll be powerless then too. Lastly, I'm sorry that I let myself be used and abused so early, that I never nurtured my caterpillar life into one of a beautiful butterfly. But I'm trapped, trapped inside a decaying chrysalis while pretending that everything is alright.
late night memories (via dying-dimples)











