By Maddie Riggs
I was beaten and abused.
I was kicked out onto the street a few times, too.
My mother left, that one is true.
Wait, maybe I was privileged.
I lived in a two story house with a lot of stuff
I even have both parents
It’s a happy marriage
I did sports and got good grades.
I don’t have a car because I don’t want one
Not because I can’t afford one
Maybe it was the seizures that prevented me
I think I had those, too
But, I was also told that I faked those
So my condition clearly isn’t real
I don't eat meat or anything processed
And I meditate to get closer to myself
I don't know, I also believe if you can hunt it, you can eat it
I am “mean” because it’s a reflection of my own insecurities
Or maybe I’m just painfully truthful and I speak my mind
I wear makeup because I need to feel pretty
You know, since I’m so ugly on the inside
Or was it because I just like to look decent?
My apologies, I can’t remember.
“Where is she going with this?”
It’s pretty simple.
You don’t know me.
You know things.
Facts.
You also fill in gaps
Maybe so you can better understand
Maybe even to better relate
What in this prose is painfully true?
So with that, don’t ever claim to know me
Or anyone else for that matter
Seeing isn’t believing
And nothing is as it seems
I was beaten and abused.
I was kicked out onto the street a few times, too.
My mother left, that one is true.
Wait, maybe I was privileged.
I lived in a two story house with a lot of stuff
I even have both parents
It’s a happy marriage
I did sports and got good grades.
I don’t have a car because I don’t want one
Not because I can’t afford one
Maybe it was the seizures that prevented me
I think I had those, too
But, I was also told that I faked those
So my condition clearly isn’t real
I don't eat meat or anything processed
And I meditate to get closer to myself
I don't know, I also believe if you can hunt it, you can eat it
I am “mean” because it’s a reflection of my own insecurities
Or maybe I’m just painfully truthful and I speak my mind
I wear makeup because I need to feel pretty
You know, since I’m so ugly on the inside
Or was it because I just like to look decent?
My apologies, I can’t remember.
“Where is she going with this?”
It’s pretty simple.
You don’t know me.
You know things.
Facts.
You also fill in gaps
Maybe so you can better understand
Maybe even to better relate
What in this prose is painfully true?
So with that, don’t ever claim to know me
Or anyone else for that matter
Seeing isn’t believing
And nothing is as it seems