there is nothing worse than being brave.
it takes a lot of courage to watch your mother be reduced to dust and then swept away.
it hurts to see your mother crying, to see her sobbing, to see her weeping onto the phone-
begging pleading hoping, reasoning with the man she thinks she loves.
"i would not have left you, because i love you,
but you left, so what does this prove?"
there is nothing worse than training your eyes throat and mouth not to cry, not to choke on those tears you've been swallowing for centuries.
anne,
i love you.
momma,
i love you.
anne, oh anne, i love you so much you will never imagine.
i would do everything, i would do anything
i am trying not to cry because, oh anne,
you told me to be strong and to be brave and while this man was divorcing you, you were sending me to school to let me learn,
to get an education,
to speak up in a world where everyone hates us before we could lose our minds and try to leave.
i am reduced to burbling blood from my throat while my mother cries on the phone, my throat is full of blood and bile, i cannot speak.
anne;
these strange lands have ripped my old words from my tongue they have torn my flesh and i am speaking through slits in my hands-
please-
if this will solve it,
then please; let's leave.
i will run to the moon if thats what it takes,
i will learn to fit in in a land that i hate but anne please-
don't cry.
not for him,
not for me.