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Super Glue
Super Glue
8/15/2013
Four years ago
Life changed for everybody I know
The placement of the furniture
And objects on the counter
Are blurry now
and fading more and more each year but
I remember the faces so clearly
I know my own mother watched me fall apart that day
The 10th of August, 2009
She was like, 6 months pregnant with her fourth
Cigarette in hand and tears in her eyes
“Please pack your things.”
What kinds of things?
What do you mean?
Where are we even going?
Mom?
Struggle with me as you watch me
Struggle alone
I won’t pack a single thing, and then they can’t take me, right?
Nobody’s ever been in charge of me before.
I’m not packing a single thing! I won’t walk a single step!
Two hours and a suitcase later
“I’m packed.” but
Fuck you, I’m not getting off the porch
I will not move a single inch towards the yard
I will super glue myself right here
Until the sun rises three more times
I hold my sisters hand so tightly,
I almost worry about her little bones breaking
She shouldn’t have to watch me cry
Black car pulls up to the curb
across the street
How ominous.
“They can’t make me”
Reality check, little girls
You are 6 and 12 years old
“You are getting into the car.”
Okay, I will
Run down the street
As fast as I can
Pretty sure my sister grew wings that day
Trying to follow me
She’s smaller than I am
She can’t run as fast and I refuse
To leave her behind
She is thin and fragile and not strong
“I’ll never leave her alone.”
You pick her up
And I have to turn around
With a defeated heart and bruised fists
I turn around.
This was four years ago
Four years ago and I’m still mad
I hated that car
Every mile that it drove
Was a mile further from home
I didn’t want to buckle up
Just in case, you know?
I hated that room
That the car abandoned us in
I knew that car was up to no good.
Big, old empty waiting room
I refused to be separated from that girl
Nice old woman takes us to get sandwiches
Because we’ve been here for hours and
We’re supposed to be hungry but
I do not want a sandwich.
We walk,
Down the driveway and across the street
Yay, Subway.
I pull out my journal
And write, write, write
I wrote about the pen I was using
Trying to ignore what was really going on
Maybe if I write enough
I can wish this all away
Write my sister and I,
Off to a better place
Brand new car
Pulling up outside
“Are you Taylor and Janie?”
Of course we are,
We’re the last two people here
Besides the receptionist
Tap, tap, typing away
What could she possibly have to write about all day?
Drive, drive, drive
Drop us off and leave us behind, now
There are a lot of children here
We paint and draw all day
Try to ignore the screams
Of other children falling apart
Because their mother didn’t show up
Or even worse, she did
Little girl, please stay strong
And hold my hand
Even if you don’t want to because
I need you to
Of course she’s super glued to me
Don’t complain because it won’t change
“I am 12 years old.”
I was 12 years old.
“Please let me go home.”
Why wouldn’t you let me go home?
Not to mention my brother
Is somewhere out there far away
4 years later
And I regret not calling him every single day
Called my grandma just to hear her cry
I would cry, too
And they’d try to take the phone
At night I heard them call her and whisper
“Just let Taylor call you first.
She doesn’t need to hurt.”
Fuck you.
Of course I didn’t “need” to hurt
But I do.
I did.
I hurt so much.
“Everything hurts so much.”
And now I DO need to,
I need to hurt
Just to feel okay
Stitches, staples
“Too close to the vein”
“Why do you do this to yourself?”
Why did you do this to me?
My 12 year old mind tried
To fix everything on its own
Because nobody would speak to me
I would not speak to them
I put numbers into everything,
Some control for this
I think everybody turned out better than I did.
Every single step
Walking home from school
was one word
“Please, please, let, me
1.2. 3. 4.
go home next week.”
5. 6. 7. 8.
I wasn’t even asking for “today”
“Tomorrow”
Or that evening
Seven days for my only wish to come true
I’ve never wanted anything half as much as that
Except for two years later when all I wanted was to die
I was surrounded but alone
I couldn’t be happy unless I was home
I’ll never be comfortable in my own skin again
I seem to have left some pieces of myself behind
The bed
In the drawers, perhaps
I had foster sisters!
A couple brothers, even!
But I was not the oldest,
Nor was I in charge.
I hated it.
I wanted to go home
But I guess that was
too much to ask because
“four weeks”
Rolled into five, six, seven, and eight
It doesn’t sound like much
But each week was seven days
Seven whole days
7 sets of 24 hours that I had to suffer through
Every single hour hurt
Every single moment
The inside of my bones ached
The silence was so damn loud
Blood pounding in my ears,
Words and memories and fears
There was no way out but through
And going through it was the hardest part
The hardest thing I ever did was
Stay.
stay calm, stay strong, stay alive
“Just keep swimming,”
Nobody would
Nobody could
Save me
I was drowning.
Damn “the System”
Fuck “the State”
I know you were trying so damn hard to fix it
But you should have listened when I shouted “Go away!”
The days were long and full of words
Empty promises of home
“Next week, okay?”
“Everything will be okay.”
Okay, next week.
I made charts and calendars
Little boxes to check each night
8 days! 7 days! 6!
1 day!
Oh, not today?
Okay, when?
“Next week.”
I was not okay.
Each night I shared my breathing space
With two other girls in a room
They would listen to me unravel tales
Of my childhood
And they were amazed that I
Smiled
So far away from home
2:30am and I could make them laugh
3 twelve year old girls
Being “shushed” and told to “go to sleep”
I’m sorry but I have to ask
Why would I even bother to listen to you,
Dear parental unit,
I mean, really,
What are you going to do?
Send me to my room?
