"And how would we live?" Old love asked me and I couldn't breathe.
Add a stick
"What about your cousins?"
Add more oxygen
"What about your Papi and I?"
And the flames grew bigger, the smoke thicker.
I couldn't bear it all. The pressure building, aching, stinging, coughing, begging me.
I'm so tired of it all, from the late nights to the videos to the long studying before tests. From the lessons to the teachers and the buildings themselves until all that is left is a little girl with a burning question.
How it all starts with a question
"How did school go?"
And I want to lie with a guilty conscience yet, the truth breaths fire.
"I hate going to school."
And I can feel my Mother's pitying disappointment.
"Do you? Or do you hate failure?"
I was a little girl then with a big mind. Of course, even then, I wasn't exactly 'just a child'.
"I'm running from failure."
"Why?"
And I sat there, on the bathroom floor, mirroring her when things got hard.
"Because I won't be enough or okay when all anyone asks me about is 'how did school go today?' "
