When I was a child, my grandma died.

We were by no means close,

I only got to see her a few times a month.

She was short, and had beautiful stories.

I remember her small curls and intricate puzzles that would take her forever to finish.

She refused to look at the box.

She was a foreign lady, with a strange sense of humor,

But that’s what I loved about her.

She would accept every picture I drew her, with a huge smile on her face,

Even if they were just scribbles.

Her turtle statues lined every wall in every room you went in,

and her house smelled like butter, though I never remember her baking.

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When I was a child, my parents sat me down.

All at once, images of every person I knew flew through my mind in an instant.

I’ve been sat down like this before.

Who was about to become a memory…

I remember my heart dropping, but no tears in my eyes.

My mother was beside herself. My father, holding her gently.

It rained that day. God cried for me, I suppose.

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When I was a child, I wrote down how I felt and I put it in my pocket.

Nobody would ever read it, because it would get thrown out.

Words I wish I kept.

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When I grew up, I cried like a child.

My best friend cried in my arms,

And I held her; like a parent would for their child.

I loved her like family, it felt right,

Being there for her like that.

I wanted to take her mistakes from her, for myself.

To suffer for her so she didn’t have to.

Until her sweet betrayal.

I spun and flailed about.

This wasn’t my life. This wasn’t how it was all supposed to play out.

I told her she deserved it.

I told her she had lost her value.

I listened to her cry.

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When I grew up, I cried like a child.

The scribbles on my paper no longer cradled me,

Hugs no longer consoled me,

And words couldn’t caress me.

I met someone I fell for in an instant,

With no strings to hold me back.

I got the news in the evening while I was lying in bed.

No death sentence, but still, a diagnosis.

I was in pain; bleeding, seeping, burning.

Disgusted in my own skin at what I had become.

I was her.

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When I grew up, I cried like a child.

I listened to the same excuses I heard from the first.

I was drunk.

I was pressured.

I didn’t want to.

It just happened.

I tried to forget, to smile.

Instead, I crashed.

Back where I started.

With nowhere to run this time.

I wanted nothing to do with the rest of the world.

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When I grew up, I cried like a child.

I had lost everything I thought I was,

Not prepared at all for the second time in my life.

He felt worth it though,

All things aside.

His past was now my present, I was paying for what I had done.

He was there for me, but I didn’t feel worthy of it.

I shut down, I said things I didn’t mean, I cried…

He held me; like a parent would for their child.

It felt right.

But I was sick.

Still am sick.

Still am crying.

I had trusted the world to take care of me, foolishly,

When I was a child.

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