Poem by Leah Landron
I can take a lot of—
Boulders; Buried on quick—
But when my friends are crying
From pressure a fog too thick,
Parents' arguments screaming in their heads,
I say enough with this world that has made them wish they were dead.
No grand solution could ever be worth the pain
Of voices implanted in brains nearly driven insane because,
Why aren't you driving yet?
Your friend has her permit.
My friend can't drive.
I have too much work to do!
You don't need motivation, says the YouTube video.
I need willpower.
You don't have the willpower, says the father to the child struggling.
So much trying everything,
But how do we fight the only things bringing us joy?
Habits feel fine when our skin is the toy,
But damage lasts longer than love,
So who do you want me to be the product of?
It's not supposed to be a supposed to question,
Why do you claim my best traits like I am the lesson you taught?
I wish we fought.
I wish I left.
Because then I could leave my childhood a theft by society,
Because I never wanted what anyone wanted from me;
My persona doesn't want to go to college,
It wants to find itself among the wreckage,
An apocalypse where no one tried to hide,
So everyone died.
Why is help given never realized, never retained?
And our mental images still remain,
Trauma a daily occurrence and emotions a stain.
Everyone has been slain, but not everyone can feign such lying elegance.
Has media hypnotized us into a self-hating trance?
Why can't I dance just because I want to?
Why must we decide now what we want to do for the rest of our lives?
When people write memos on their phones contemplating suicide
That's when I think understanding has died,
Because our choices now are not a permanent slide!
We can choose another path; get off the ride!
So why do you act like I'm killing everything
You tried to give me. If we
conversed, given a space to grow,
Maybe I wouldn't want to let go, either.
But I'm wiser for it.
I think we deserve some credit,
Not for smart but for surviving,
Because right now, there is no path for thriving:
Wickets a thicket too thick to get through,
But I'm glad I have you.
I could critique my friends all day long,
True, but I need to love them more than hate them—
Why can't "I love you"?
Why have I stopped saying it? Stop saying it first!
I want to mean it and I do!
But I'm afraid of what that makes true;
When everything you thought you knew goes out the window you opened to let the cool air in—
I never think I’ll be forgiven.
Then I am.
And maybe it was all according to plan,
And I'd rather have this than, nothing.
And it will be alright, says me—
Not a placation but a promise that the
Better is yet to come,
And I'll come too if you let me;
I love you.