I'm tired of going Home

I'm tired of going home.

Back to tired and exasperated "Yes mother"s and "okay"s. 

Back to anger, back to fear, back to pain and paranoia. 

Back to "You're so stupid", "You're clueless", "Why are you so rude?", "You're lazy and a pig and it's a wonder you have any friends." Back to doubt. 

Back to worthlessness, because I can't manage the same ease and grace in pulling good grades as I did in elementary school, when everything was based on whether or not you did the assignment, not how well you did. 

Back to being nothing more than a trophy in a glass case, silver and tarnishing, slowly, slowly. 

Back to where my heart simply doesn't belong anymore. 

Back to where tears can't quite exist because the reservoir for year seventeen has already been depleted, and eighteen left nearly barren as well. 

Where there is a great drought of feeling, because all of it has been expended in fits of rage and fits of silent, dreading, sadness. 

I'm tired of going home.

I'm tired of protecting an already weak, crumbling heart, with an equally pained soul. 

I'm tired of hiding it away whenever I hear a raised voice

I'm tired of flinching at the thought of dishonor, flinching when I hear too heavy footsteps in the hallway, pounding drums of impending doom. 

I'm tired of having a phone for a lifeline with so few people I'll actually trust with asking for help. 

I'm tired of feeling inadequate of having those friends. 

I'm tired of fearing that I'm pestering them, like I'll lose them instantly for saying hey, I need someone. 

I'm tired of fake smiles and plastic, so much plastic. 

I'm tired of being tired. 

I'm tired. 

I'm tired. 

I'm ready to leave. Leave and never look back. 

I'm almost ready to let my heart out of its vault again, cracks almost repaired, tiny, baby steps back out into the open. 

I'm ready to go. But I'm also afraid. 

Afraid I can't handle it

Afraid my will will crumble and blow away like an old, dead, dry leaf underfoot, ashes and dust scattered to the wind. 

I'm afraid it won't be enough. 

I'm afraid that everyone will leave, and there'll be no one left. 

I'm afraid to say goodbye. 

I'm afraid of losing what little happiness I gain by not. Going. Home. 

I'm afraid you'll leave, she'll leave, that (no, no, no) no one is going to stick around no matter how I feel about them. 

I'm afraid to do as I want

And I want to do what I want anyways.

I want to weave flowers into bracelets and crowns

I want to speak words I never had courage to say

I want to say hello, I love your hair, your eyes, your face

I want to hug, endlessly and every day, even if I fear touch. 

I want to give roses and daffodils and daisies and snapdragons and four leafed clovers

I want to make you, and you, and you, and all of you over there smile. 

I want to know what a kiss feels like

I want to go on every roller coaster

I want to fly

I want to make root beer and laze by the poolside, in kapris and a tshirt, feet bathed in warm water as clear and as blue as crystal

I want to live like never before

And love like never before

I want to comfort and hold and reassure even if I haven't the words to fill the space

I want to be held. 

I want to be given a flower. One flower. Only one.

I want it to mean something. 

I want to hold the sun in my palms and the moon to settle in my eyes. 

I want to watch every eclipse, every meteor shower, and not sleep during the night of winter solstice

I want to save someone

I want to be saved

I want to be a hero

And a villain

I want to tell our stories and keep our secrets in a little tin lunchbox, with a faded superman print. 

I want to wish you happy birthday, over, and over, and over again.

I want to be radiant. 

And I can't wait for the day to come where I make a new home for myself.