Courtyard, 2am.

Frustration
Bubbling up again
I attempt to ignore the nagging
And frantically play games on my phone
Drawing mandala’s to simulate calm
For the first
Real
Time
I miss my mother.
All I want is a hug and for her to tell
Me
It will all be okay.
I am a hated cliché.
“Sad Teen needs hug”
I should put out an ad in the paper
“Sad Teen needs hug,
not sex,
just to be touched in a way that makes her feel whole again”
She replies to my texts
Worried
I hate that
“Sad Teen does not want to worry mother with feelings”
“Sad Teen gets angry at her best friends over nothing”
Sad Teen hates that.
Sad Teen is actually a women trying to
Fulfil
Her dreams
Or anything, really.
Sad Teen hates that she does not know
What those are anymore.
What she is anymore.
Sad Teen hates that she needs someone to
Be fulfilled
And
Apologises to everyone as a defence mechanism
This mechanism is faulty
Maybe she shouldn’t have stopped using the lubricant
That keeps her moving
Maybe Sad Teen should change her wallpaper
From the old family photo
Because
She is not a one year old in her mother’s arms anymore.
“Sad Teen tries to think of reasons to be happy whilst studying her degree
in the most beautiful city in the world”
Sad Teen fails
And instead
Sad Teen thinks of her “illness” and grief

Sad Teen hates that.
Sad Teen hates this.

I, hate this.

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