Mosquito Bites
(This was written a while ago,
it was just hard for me to share.
Sorry that it's so long.
~ Don't read it if you're easily triggered, thank you)
They’re like mosquito bites,
The silent insults and comments that have been thrown my way
since the 3rd grade.
Mosquito bites that have gotten so deep, so bad,
that I’ve wanted to die from the pain they caused.
I was 9 years old.
I was 9 years barely knowing what it feels like to care for somebody,
9 years barely knowing that there’s other people out there
other than the 27 naive souls in that one well-lit classroom.
I was barely 9 years and I knew all too well what it felt like to die on the inside.
But I stopped myself,
from trying on that braided rope necklace that was to be tied to a post
that might as well have been death’s finger;
And I became content
with scratching and itching,
until the bites burned red
with the self anger I put into them.
I clawed at them until they bled,
and red goo that smelled of copper and death
stained my skin.
I covered them with band aids,
but I knew and I could feel that they were there,
their poison seeping into my systems,
shutting everything down,
eating me from the inside out,
and banishing me to a place of darkness.
The silent insults fogged my vision,
The comments made me choke on my own thoughts,
and they all kept me anchored to the slick oily ground,
stopped me from pulling myself together
and up out of my stupor.
On the outside I was a machine,
smiling and acting out lies,
the bites growing under the surface;
Never noticeable,
but more of their kind kept coming.
“There’s always someone who has it worse than you,”
“Your problems are invalid,”
“We don’t want to play with you,”
“Can you go away? We’re playing a game.”
Haha. Yeah right.
I knew what they wanted to say:
“Hey Tyler, we’re making up lies about you,
but we’re decent enough to lie about lying about you.”
They dropped bombs onto my skin,
The ones that I trusted the most,
Trusted with the cogs that made me move,
trusted with keeping safe the batteries that kept me alive.
I trusted them,
and they shot rockets labelled “Useless”, “Liar”, “Fat”, etc at my chest Made blows so deep they left permanent craters in my heart.
I tripped and fell over,
Tried to crawl out of the holes
and I became tired.
Tired of trusting anybody with my parts,
tired of letting anybody peer inside that glass cabinet on my back,
didn’t let anybody see if anything could be fixed;
Had to be fixed.
I became so tired that I just lay there.
There were light rays above me,
but I couldn’t reach them,
wouldn’t.
I didn’t trust them because it meant becoming exposed,
getting bit and burned,
then slipping deeper.
Slipping deeper,
Into a place harder to crawl out of,
Unscarred.