The stillness of that fall night ruined by the howling of my mother.

“You ruined dinner,” she shrieked.

How was I supposed to know that telling her I don't want Pizza Hut would instigate such a reaction.  

The next time I didn't like something that she did, I kept my mouth shut. 

The words bubbled at the back of my esophagus waiting to escape the baking soda volcano of my heart but the lump in my throat held the vinegar in my mouth.

What am I supposed to do with the words never split?

The cacophony of children enjoying their one reprieve from the lessons was drowned out by my middle school bully confessing her love to me.

The missing school supplies, the bruises from a grip too tight, and the teachers who always dismissed her actions helped me realize I would have rather died than date her. 

She hurt me but how could I hate her when I found out she didn’t know how to show affection properly? 

The moments of fear I felt on the school bus because I knew I would have to face her when I got there could never just be thrown out like my math homework during summer break.

What am I supposed to do with the emotions that never got resolved?

The beautiful lights outside my hotel room in Chicago dimmed as my mother and grandmother tried to make me pick sides in their argument.

The train station was cold and I felt out of place in my pajamas but how could I stay the night after my two favorite people tore my heart in half pulling it in their direction.

What am I supposed to do with the Mariana Trench between my loved ones and my ability to trust them?

What am I supposed to do when I give it my all and it’s still not enough?

What am I supposed to do when the customers at my job treat me like an object rather than another human being?

What am I supposed to do when my ‘friends’ keep ‘forgetting’ to respond to me?

What am I supposed to do with all of the mistakes that float to the surface like a bloated corpse as I try to rest?

What am I supposed to do when the magma of my hidden rage burns through my insides leaving nothing but cinder?

What am I supposed to do when I can't breathe because the weight of the world keeps crushing my lungs?

Living is tough. 

I am often left with many questions I'll never get answers to.

But every treacherous encounter helps me grow stronger like leveling in a video game.

Every day I push forward so that the ever looming GAME OVER stays far behind.

The questions and pain sticks with me always but I will never let them consume me like the hyenas they are.

Maybe one day I won't have to fight, instead I could just live.