Member-only story
All A Part of Me
How I see myself now is that a scar on my right hand from a dog’s bite
is a part of me as well as a cup of hot black coffee almost every morning,
hooded characters walking briskly in mornings before sunrise during silent wanderings,
her hopeless hands wringing each other on the tabletop,
her frantic, pleading eyes for me to finally marry and produce a grandchild and settle into a stable office job, being rejected by classmates in gym class and other classes when group projects took place, towers of books rearranged constantly are all a part of me;
and staring at a screen or paper while holding a pen desperately thinking in near tears,
talking about dead-ends and having fallen hard many times,
wondering how to manage my money in a way that there will be enough left until my next paycheck, listening to music in order to calm my psyche for long stretches of time,
often sobbing and letting my depression get the better of me,
asking myself why I am a punching bag for mostly verbal abuse
and why I am not good enough for my own family members to look at me,
being alone for days at a time considering what the point of my existence is are all a part of me.
