Dear Grandpa Frank,

Here I am,
Three years after you left this earth.
Can you see me from up There?
Are you happy now?

I can’t count how many nights,
I have cried myself to sleep.
Worried that I was never enough;
That I didn’t fit your standard.

While you sat up there with Jesus,
I was here shoving a toothbrush down my throat,
Wishing that all my pain would go away.

“You’re going to be just like them.”

Those eight words destroyed my life.
I swallowed a damn toothbrush
And was rushed to the hospital,
By two clueless parents who didn’t understand.

My family was worried sick,
And looked at me like I was a ghost.
I was followed around and monitored,
Questioned and misunderstood.

I saw a psychologist once a week,
School went on like nothing happened.
Nobody cared.

My pain was temporarily dismissed,
When I joined the cross country team.
I ran every damn mile,
Hoping that it would make you happy.

Beads of sweat built on my forehead,
As I pushed myself one more mile.
The pounds had shed as the happiness multiplied.

“I’m making him happy”

I am mentally stuck in this glass box,
Surrounded by thousands of your faces,
Pointing, staring, criticizing,
My every curve, my every flaw.

I’m trying to get rid your voice,
I’m thriving for freedom from the mental pain.
I want to make you happy grandpa,
But I’m done trying.
I’m done killing myself
And giving it over to the evil spirit.
You can tell Jesus that I’m ready for His hands.
I’m ready for Him to pick me up and bring it all to an end.

I won’t hide from it anymore,
I’m not ashamed.
I want to be free of the weightless chains
Free of the voices saying “do more.”

Grandpa Frank, here’s my body,
Here’s the pain, the tears,
The pressure, the imperfection.
Here’s what I have, and all I’ll ever have.

Take It,
Pass It,
Leave It.

Give me over,
And release the grip, grandpa,
Please.

I want to be is His arms.
He will love me,
He will carry me,
And He will accept me;
Call me Beautiful.

I love you,
But I’m through;
I’m through with your criteria.

I will tribute you no longer
In the image of my appearance.

Grandpa Frank,
I forgive you, I forgive you,
I’m happy now.