I hate being at home with myself
The house feels cold
The rooms creak as I try to close my eyes
The fridge is lifeless
A place once filled with food
When mom is away I am at home with myself
She aches that she needs another break
So as I shove the second pack of ramen down my throat
And burn my fingers with the hair curler
I miss her
Home was always home with her
But alas I am with myself

Summers almost over
I've turned a year older
And as I step ahead
It only gets colder

I always loved the Peanuts
Watching the TV screen I always thought of it as a goofy childhood show to watch on a cold autumn day
Though he put the show together I never payed much attention to Charlie Brown
The classic loser who couldn't catch the baseball, because he tripped over his own feet
As I grew older his name resonated more with my own
The constant disappointment in people
The constant hope for a different result
The feeling of embarrassment with limited reassurance you're going the right way
So maybe he isn't a loser
Maybe he was made to touch others who feel odd in a world that doesn't seem so
Maybe we aren't hopeless

I call my grandma Nanny
She told me to call her that so she didn't feel old
But to me she never looked old
She looked about in her late fifties or early sixties to my young eyes
We laughed, we danced and read stories
And at bedtime she sang sweet lullaby's
I played dress up with her old clothes and jewelry sets
Her necklaces always dangled down my chest, because it didn't fit just yet
"I'll give this to you when you are grown," she always said
I'm now seventeen
And when I see Nanny it feels blue
I always remember the harsh words she threw
Calling me "useless," and saying that it's because of the phone
Though I was twelve and it made me feel less alone
I remember the times she commented on the food I ate
I can't eat food now without thinking about my weight
It's not her fault she made me feel this way
She was old, sick and could only see grey
But it now consumes me and it won't go away
It lives in my chest
Like the necklace that didn't fit just yet

I was four
Still sleeping with my mama because I was scared of the monsters that were told in my storybooks
I was four and eating Mac and cheese off a big colorful plate with a big scoop of ice cream for dessert
I was six when I got driven to school
With the ponytail grandma put in my hair
I played with boys and girls at recess and came home with dirt on my clothes and would ponder at night what would happen tomorrow
I was eleven when I cut bangs in my hair
And started choosing what I wore to match the girls in my class who were skinny compared to myself
I always blamed the Mac and cheese
I slept dreaming of a boy I thought I loved until I was thirteen and he only wanted my body
I was sixteen when I said I hated my mama
Despite her always wanting me to sleep in her bed because she too was scared of the monsters, but the monster was just her daughter who had formed so much anger at the world, but deep down it was just despair
I am now seventeen
Seventeen sleeping in a cold, dark room every night and waking up with a sense of dread
Seventeen when mama stopped asking me to sleep with her, because someone took my spot
Seventeen skipping meals and not eating Mac and cheese, because of the numbers on the side of the box
Seventeen thinking I will never fall in love
Seventeen wishing she did more to protect that little girl
Who ate Mac and cheese with dirt on her clothes

I'm afraid to be perceived as slightly unsatisfied
Because I know you would devour the thought of me being unhappy

You wouldn't know that I've been in love for

24 months

Was it a waste of time?
Maybe.

A waste of
104 weeks
730 days
1051200 minutes
And 63072000 seconds

Waiting for something that will never come