I Don't Know

Kathja Andersen

I don't know.
That simple sentence brings up so many bad memories; recent and old.
A sentence i've said so many times.

"What do you wanna eat?"
I don't know.

"What's your favorite ice cream?" 
I don't know.

"Why are you sad?"
I don't know.

"Why can't you control it?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Why are you always overdramatic?"

I don't know, I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T KNOW!

I don't know anything ; i don't know why i cry, why i want my dad back... Why i want to die. I don't know.

Why? WHY? WHY?!

I've asked and asked, yet no one knows, not even i. I am me, but i don't like me.

I don't like death, yet i want die. I don't like my own body, 
yet i still use up my energy trying to look just the smallest bit of presentable that everybody else can do faster, 
better and more elegantly.

I have no one left, my little sister hates me, 
my older siblings shouldn't waste their time on me, 
and because of me my sister is being overlooked by my own mother. 
My dad left, and i blame myself for it, i cry in the night.

I have no one else to cry to, they all tell me to "get over it".

I need help, but sometimes i think that maybe, i don't WANT help. 
Maybe i'm just not supposed to get help, maybe i'm supposed to stay in the dark, 
maybe i can't get help or get out of the darkness.

Maybe there is no light for me.