[2] Aiden

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Your life isn’t yours anymore.

Instead,

It’s,

Your,

Mother’s.

She’s changed you,

Rearranged you.

But only on the outside.

No,

She doesn’t know,

That the real Aiden is ticking,

Hidden on the inside.

And you hope she never will,

Or things will just get worse.

Already you’ve been beaten,

For a sarcastic comment at the dinner table,

Listening to your music on the internet,

And even wearing your piercings.

But you will never take them out.

There the last part of you that’s left.

Who are you taking to your school dance?

Mom asks over dinner.

You hadn’t even considered attending,

And the dance was next week.

Mom’s eyes watch you,

Curious,

Because she wants to know your answer.

Knowing,

Because no is not an answer.

Interfering,

Because she can’t let you control your own life.

So you tell her you don’t know,

And her smile only widens.

I talked to the Snow’s,

She grins,

And that could only mean one thing.

Sarah Snow was the second most popular girl in school.

She didn’t even know I existed.

They said Sarah would love to go with you.

You nod,

And take a sip of your water,

Trying not to choke,

Though you desperately want to.

But you highly doubt Sarah wants to go with you,

Or even knows your name.

Like your Mom,

Her mother controlles her life.

Sarah was pretty,

On the outside.

But on the inside,

She has an evil,

Narcissistic,

Awful core.

A night with her was as bad as,

A,

Night,

In,

Hell.

Next comes the insults.

Your Mom begins to break you down,

Piece,

By,

Piece.

And doesn’t build you back up.

When she’s done,

You shy away to your bathroom.

You open the drawer,

And pull out your blade.

It shines in the light,

And you smile.

It was the only way,

To clear your head.

Your Mother’s insults resurface,

But this time it’s okay.

You’re worthless.

Cut.

All you do is disappoint me.

Cut.

You will never be good enough.

Cut.

I wish you weren’t my son.

You cut deeper than you should,

And blood begins to pour.

You quickly put the blade away,

And run your arm under cold water.

But the bleeding doesn’t stop.

You wrap a bandage around the wound,

And stare into the mirror.

For once,

The person who stares back isn’t controlled.

This isn’t who your Mom wants you to be,

And that makes you happy.

You’re defying her,

Because you want to be you.

Disobeying her,

Because you want to be you.

Challenging her,

Because deep down your still you.

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