Where i'm from

Where I come from,

Smiles were rare, laughs were seldom

And love was a word unknown

I’m from punches and handfuls of hair,

From bruises, pain and tears.

From loneliness and self-hatred.

Where I come from,

Promises never went unbroken,

Broken relationships were a trend,

I’m from un-truthful wedding vows,

And my mother taking one too many pills

Where I come from,

Depression came easy,

Religion was frowned upon,

Hope was hard to find

And alcohol was always present.

Where I come from, fishing twelve hours a day, was normal

The stories from my father came daily,

And a bond between father and daughter was created

Where I’m going,

Is not anywhere close to where I’m from.

Where I’m going… is far

I’m going towards my hopes and dreams.

Going farther than anyone in my family before-

Where I’m going is towards success and happiness

Where I’m going, is to make a difference.

My Bucket

She’s afraid. She’s hurt. She’s mad. She’s sad. She’s so consumed in the negative that even on the warmest day of the year she’s doesn’t feel the slightest ounce of sunlight touch her skin. Stuck inside herself so far that her inner voice in incapable of speaking up. They tell her she’ll be okay, but she doesn’t believe them. The scars are hidden from the outside world. Not one person knows about them. When she see’s them she knows that she’ll never amount to anything. She’s no better than her sisters and her mother. They tell her to suck it up and stand up tall when the truth is; she wants none of this, none of it at all. A smile so permanently plastered on her face, a ‘happy girl’ they would so easily mistake. Buried so deep with so many surrounding padlocks, the idea of revealing her true self was something thought impossible. She feels so alone, the constant reminders surrounding her that she really is. The two people she truly ever felt like cared for her; are buried ten feet under. The life that was once manageable turned too hard to manage. She’s not wanted, and the constant getting yelled at and lectures remind her that. She doesn’t do anything right, absolutely nothing. She’s an outcast, and backlash of somebody’s lack of love. She’s on her knees screaming to God to take her away, let her life just seem to fade away. The tears running down her face wiping away the mascara she had so carefully applied. The burning sensation in her lungs from hyperventilating make it pure torture when she yelps out that she cant do it anymore. She’s done, she quits. Head pounding, heart beating too fast, face beat red. She manages to scream out, “God help me” as the razor blade makes one last slice across her arm. She drops it on the ground. Her heart starts to slow down, face start to return to a normal shade, and her crying becomes less and less. A sudden rush of peace overcomes her body. As if Gods hand is truly reaching down and touching her shoulder, she shivers. An unfathomable strength overtakes her body. She’s lifted to her feet, standing tall. She then knows that she’s not alone. She has a purpose, and she needs to find it. Life will come to that breaking point, but she’ll be okay because she may not have her father, mother or grandma- but she does have an amazing God that will try to protect her from most storms. He put her here for a reason. She whispers a prayer. She gets rid of the blade, she doesn’t need it. She goes outside to look at how beautifu.l everything is. A dysfunctional girl, in a mad, crazy world….and yet everything, will be just okay