|| - Angry - ||

You’re angry.
Angry that you have less of what you want to have more.
Angry that this is not ‘your year,’ much like it wasn’t before.
Angry that people don’t see how much of a great genius you are.
Angry that you’re still here when you were meant to be so far.
Angry to realize that you’re addicted to all of what you cannot live without.
Angry that you’re growing older and life is still filled with doubt.
Angry about every little thing you touch or see,
painfully reminding you of all the things that you could be,
and now, you’re somehow angry about me.

But I,
I teach myself to let the guilt go,
and not to act in the only way I know.
Because I’m tired. I’m tired of being drowned
by others' needs or wishes when mine are nowhere to be found.
I’m tired of caring and tip-toeing my way,
just not to upset and to ensure I make everyone’s day.
You see, I know that this is hard to digest, and it might feel strange,
but I’m happy about this reaction because it smells like change.
So I’m happy for myself, for being that brave,
for standing up to you and stopping being such a slave.
That does not mean I’m not in pain
and that I’m not thinking about it time and time again.
After all this time, I thought you’d understand,
surely you wouldn't be mad and would probably hold my hand.
But you are not a man like that; you don’t really care.
That’s why I wear my mask, and you’re not even aware.
So much agony you’ve caused, but I choose to forgive,
and I pray you won’t need to pay for the way you choose to live.

I love myself now, and I know you are the one to miss
all that I am to you, and that I don’t deserve this.