WASTED ALMONDS

Wasted Almonds
Title of work: “Wasted Almonds
Medium: Shading Pencils (2B, 8B)

 


Dear Mom,

I remember when I called you unexpectedly,
to tell you that I’d hit my lowest low,
but really, it was just a broken heart
from a trip I shouldn’t have made at all.

I remember what went through my head
each time a boy called me words
and questioned my character, 
based on the choices I’d made
before him. 

I remember the face of every person
who
 has ever managed to point out
my physical flaws:

the size of my waist, the fullness of my cheeks,
my face.
Me.

I remember that one dark room in the hostel
where, to the beats of my favourite song,
 I took a kick to the nose
and got blood on the floor-tiles.
“Found a new song to obsess over.”
is what I’d told you. 

I remember the day you figured out 
that I’d been slitting my wrists,
and when you asked why,
I lied.

I remember each time I chose
silence over catharsis
because I didn’t expect you to understand.
I don’t expect you to understand now either. 

I’m sorry for wasting all your almonds
on remembering things that
I know I shouldn’t.

 

 

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