I can’t tell her though, not yet, not even as it brings tears to my eyes. “You could have tried harder in high school. That’s what got you into this feeling, you know.” I want to claw out my eyes. I want to make good on those threats from so many years ago, as pain resurfaces in a horrible way I never imagined.

I want to yell at her, as the scars swell,

“You told me you thought I was on drugs, Mom. My grades dropped, and you didn’t even ask if something was wrong! I was fine for you, I was perfect for you, until that year. Why didn’t you wonder what was wrong?” My head is going to explode, my throat is on fire. I can feel it glowing there, at the back of my tongue- it’s choking me!

It’s red, it’s all red, and I flash back. It hurts all over again and I’m crying. I’m crying and yelling and I’m 16, and I am not on drugs.

I can’t live with this eating a hole in me, so I make threats and promises. But I give up. I lose myself in it, and even at 20, I’m still groping around in the dark for me.