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Angie Acuña Apr 2013
When we first met, after proper introductions, you asked me who I was.
"But what do you mean?", I asked, "I just told you who I was."
"No", you said.
"Who are you?"

So I lifted my arms and rolled up my jeans.

"Here", I said.
"This is my story.
These are not scars, oh no.
They are much more than that.
These marks are my scratched out words and mistakes on blank pages.
They are the words that I said wrong and still had time to erase.
Except for that one, I fell off my bike here.

If you must read, please do so carefully.
My pages are a little fragile from the abuse caused by the wrong people reading me.
I still have a doggy ear fold from one who never finished reading."
This was written as a spoken word poem.
Angie Acuña Apr 2013
How am I supposed to tell her that it's her?
She's the one causing my problems.
I love her like my sister,
And yet I hate her like my worst nightmare.
Because that's what she is; my worst nightmare.
She instills fear in me
The fear that I will never be like her.
That I will never be as great.
The fear that she will take what I want most.
That she will take whom I want most...
Figure it out.
Angie Acuña Apr 2013
Please don't look at me like that.
I wasn't the one who delivered the first blow, the first push.
It was you!
Yes, you with the wide eyes and closed heart.
You who singlehandedly brought me to my demise.
All it took was a glance and a couple of words from your lying mouth.
Nothing more, nothing less.
.  .  .
Angie Acuña Mar 2013
"Bulimia nervosa, an eating disorder that involves bingeing on food followed by purging, can cause gum disease, osteoporosis, kidney disease, heart disease, and death. Bulimia affects mostly women and teens." - WebMD.com*

My eyes blurred as I wiped away the remaining evidence from my mouth.
I cried.

It seems that bulimia had taken over my life these past couple of months.
Even my hands shake now.
For some reason, I didn't seem to care that I could give myself cancer with this, that I could die from this.

My headaches have gotten worse, my depression even more intense.
And my poor, sweet mother, willing to believe that I am sick and NOT doing this to myself.

Could I really do this to her?
She now has the duty to care for several children that are not hers because she cares too much.
She tries, but she no longer listens to her own children.

My mother is broken.
Revealing this to her will only break her more.

So I'll keep quiet.
Purging and ridding myself of my shame and self respect.
What could possibly be worse?
I need help.
Angie Acuña Mar 2013
I've been sitting here staring at the clock on the wall and I've been laying here praying, praying she won't call...
I've been replaced haven't I? You don't have to say it out loud, I can see it. No, that's the wrong thing to say. I don't see it. I don't see you at all anymore.

Darling, you are the only exception.
I will love you unconditionally, no matter what.

You love blow and I love puff...
As much as I don't want to admit it, we aren't that much alike.
Nothing can change that.

You make me crazier...
I swear that my head used to spin like a tilt-a-whirl when I was around you.

I'll keep you my ***** little secret.
Is that all that I was to you?

Cause I'm falling for you now...
Please don't lie to me. I don't know if its worse than the actual honest words that you speak to me.

Liar, liar. Don't cry on my shoulder.
Could better words have been used to describe you?

My love's like a star, yeah, you can't always see it, but you know that I'm always there.
Yes, you were there. Always ignoring me. What a ******* lie.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you.
Impossible.

Did you forget that I was even alive?
Please don't?

I just can't stop loving you.
Unfortunately, even after suffering in silence because of you, I just can't stop going back to you.

Please, please don't leave me?*
I love you...
And I write this because I will never have the courage to say this to his face.
Angie Acuña Mar 2013
I love the way your hair falls over your eyes and glasses. It gives off a sense of mystery that baffles me.
I love how tall you are. It makes me feel small and secure next to you.
I love the way you play your saxophone. It gives me chills whenever I hear it and they last for hours.
I love how you are with your family. It makes me think of a possible future together.
I love the way you talk, so soft, yet demanding attention. It reminds me of a beautiful flower that enthralls whoever sees it.
I love the way you smile and how rarely I get to see it in its true form. It makes me want to work all the more harder to draw it out.
I love how silly you act sometimes. It reminds me of the child you still possess.
I love the way you are always so sweet. It makes me think of how even my favorite candy couldn't beat you with it's sugar.
I love how you love me. It makes me want to be a better person.
There are two people that I write the most about. This one is my fantasy.
Angie Acuña Mar 2013
"Misery is a powerful sensation.
It's funny, can tear people down and lead them to madness.
Which is also a weird feeling, madness.
It strangles you up and won't let go." She said

My mother is convinced that I am crazy, driven to madness, she says.
I don't know how, I say.
Mother, I only do what you have taught me, what you have shown me.
Is it my fault that I don't trust people because of you? I am a cynic and proud.
Others will not be the reason for my downfall.

My misery, you say, is caused from a lack of friends, from being antisocial.
Dear mother, the only misery I own is the one you gave to me over the years.
"Friends" have never had anything to do with this.
I never had any.

Pride will get you nowhere, she says.
On the contrary, mother dearest, my pride has got me everywhere that I have been.
You were no help.

No mother, it's not because I'm not pretty enough, because I don't wear makeup or because I don't do my hair.
The reason that I don't have a boyfriend is because of you.
I have seen one too many of your relationships crash and burn like a meteor to ever trust someone other than me with my organs.

Don't you dare yell at me, mother.
The way I act towards you is because of the shield that I have forged over the years for your snide remarks and evil looks. My attitude is yours.

Sweet mother, I have seen you at your worst and at your best. None of which are really great, but I know how you are and that's all that matters.

Dear mother, I know this seems like it was written to spite you, but it's the only way I could express this.

Mom, I want to thank you for making me this way and for everything you have ever taught me.

I want to say that I love you, mommy.
I love my mom guys. Honestly I do.
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