There they go again. Little words, like swords, like bees, swarming. Bees creep from their mouths, dripping over their lips, crawling at a frantic pace down their necks. They pulsate, venom filled, angry little monsters. A cloud around their heads, eyes slicing through the haze with malice. They spill the bees, the crawling things, with every twitch of their tongues. They crawl on my skin, little legs pricking, slicing, and digging. They bite my flesh, pumping their poison into my veins. I can’t brush them off. They’re lodged there, filling me with venom, pushing their poisoned tongues in and out of their lips, dripping with condescension.
I scream and push, but they just laugh. Little one, so small, so stupid. What does he know? Every time he opens his mouth nothing comes out. We don’t hear him. They laugh, covering their faces with black slime, dropping bees and beetles with every snicker. The venom makes my head spin, I can’t stand. The ground seems so far away, I can’t hide. I’m naked, sliced open and bleeding.
I yell, angry now. Fire sears though my body, burning up the poison, giving me strength. But the bees just swarm into my mouth, stinging my tongue, crawling down my throat. My words turn against me, choking me with my own voice.
See, they say, he doesn’t know anything. If he did he wouldn’t get angry. It’s all his fault. We are normal. He is not. We speak the truth, we are smart. They drip their hatred onto my skin, it burns like acid. I can’t even scream my mouth is full of squirming bodies, writhing amongst the blood oozing from the sores.
I push away, running, vomiting insects. They don’t care. They continue on. After all they are right. They are the normal ones. I’m the one fleeing. I’m the one with the problem.
I run home, burning. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t even sit still, screaming inside. The insects are gone, fallen away in the haste of my escape. Why? Never again. I swear, never again. So much anger, bottled, corked inside, trying to escape. Fuck. I swear when I’m mad, right, left, everywhere. The ugly works echo again and again in turmoil in my head. My thoughts are like the sea, crashing over one another. So much anger. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. So much anger, solidifying into crude on my brain. My head is full of shit. I can’t shake it loose.
Distractions. I need them but I can’t focus. The scene won’t go away. It’s in my head. It’s all in my head. The venom still burns, their laughter thuds with every heartbeat. Distractions. Fluttering words, spinning images. Fuck. It won’t go away.
Fine. Fuck them. Never again. I won’t let anyone talk that way again. Fuck all of them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I hate myself. I hate myself. They are right. Shit, I must be stupid. Everyone says it.
Stop that. It’s the poison, sinking in, merging with my flesh. Every word is twisted. What is right? What is wrong? Who was right? Does it even matter?
It’s later now. The anger faded, replaced by coldness. I’m hollow. The venom burned out my heart. Every part of me bleeds; I can’t make sense of my head. I’m muddled, confused. Their words drip off my tongue, their laughter solidified in my brain. They may be gone, the words are now silence, but the venom is ingrained in my bones. My heart is cold, empty. I know they were wrong, but I don’t know it.
Why? Why? Why, why, why, why? I can’t shake this. Just add it to the mountain of lies filling my body. Stupid. Little. Homeschooled. Weird. Messed up. Socially awkward. Ugly. Girly. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Lies, all lies. But in my head they are truth. They are law. They are the iron bands around my brain. They are what defines me.
This is why I bleed. This is why when the darkness comes I can’t shake it. This is why I slip under the waves. I can’t shake this. Why can’t I shake this?
Curled on the floor in a dark room, wishing I was different, wishing I was normal. I know, when the sun comes up, I’ll come around. I’ll see them again and we won’t speak of it, or I’ll apologize. I’ll apologize because I don’t know how to do anything else. And they will graciously not forgive me. We will ignore it till the next time and then the cycle will start again. I know all this, but I can’t seem to get past it. Why am I so weak?
Because every time we talk I’m the one left with bruises and scars. I’m the one with venom pumping through a battered heart. And I step outside the line to be kicked back into their cage.
I know all this. I know it so well.
Darkness, take me away. I don’t want to deal with this. I can’t deal with this. Because it’s all my fault. I make them provoke me. I make them do this. It’s all my fault. Because they treat me like shit must mean that I am shit. I am shit. I am shit, shit, shit. Garbage. Shit.
I want to scream, “Don’t fucking touch me!” but I turn the other cheek. I let them hit me because it’s all I’ve ever known. I want to stand up, but when I do. I’ve got the problem .
I am the problem. And I hate myself.
Are you happy?