I was ten at the time
I anticipated the moment; I was excited even.
Across countries, I would move
Now four years later I look back
And think hard
Sometimes I wish
That I never move back
That I was still there
I still talk to them sometimes – my old friends
But they’ve moved on
It’s like they barely remember me – and I barely remember them
It’s hard
It’s like
I never existed
And sometimes, I feel like I don’t
And then I'm here
And I watch my ‘friends’ from a distance
They don’t know me either – they don’t know what I feel
What I think
What I see when I look at them
I'm set apart – with my accent, with my clothes, with my view
Everything
It’s only when they are all alone
When they need help
When they have no one near them
When they have trouble
That they come to me.
But it’s like I'm a tool – to be used, but not to be there. To be hidden.
They never think, not once, ‘and what about her? How does she feel? How much has she been hurt and no one’s been there to heal?’
I used to have someone besides them
Someone I could talk to
A loving sibling
But he left me – he left me behind in the dust when I most needed him
We don’t talk anymore
It’s like the other one doesn’t exist
I miss him
But he left me
And I hate him for that
But I love him
I just wish
That for once – just for once someone would help me heal
There’s a hole in me that hasn’t healed in four years
And every time it starts something rips it wide open again
And I go back to that time where I hid under the cover and cry and cry and cry myself to sleep
Wouldn’t someone heal me?