I cut my arms in seventh grade.
“What’s so terrible about your life?”
“Why are you looking for pity?”
I developed an eating disorder.
“Gain weight, you look awful.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop.”
I ran away.
“You think your life is so miserable!”
“You have clothes and food and shelter what could possibly be wrong?”
I cried myself to sleep every night.
You never noticed.
These were cries for help, mom!
This wasnt attention seeking!
I needed you to be a real parent.
I was crying.
For help.