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First by a string of thread

One new strand connecting us for each story shared

Daring to slip through my fingers unless I pinched hard enough

Then by a rope

Calluses catching on the knots

But as we shared

And learned

And grew

And loved

So did the thread

And soon the rope became so thick

I knew my childhood had come to an end when the monsters under the bed, in the closet, and in my head became the girl I saw in the mirror

Stuck in a void, the end is clear, for I no longer can bear the weight of my existence in the world that I fear

There is always a name spoken softer than mine

Or a memory more fond

always a love

but never the greatest

always a friend

but never the best

I am twenty four

But some days I’m 19 again

Crying on the bathroom floor wondering why I can’t be loved the way I love others

Other days I’m 9 years old wondering if my mom will ever love me the way I love her

Often I’m 16 years old thinking maybe I’ll finally be wanted