I could write about my anger
and frustration.

I could write about my loneliness
and agitation.

I could write about the bad in the world.
The melting ice caps,
and what I was told about the
starvation,
and the sacrifice.

But, I don’t want to write about that today.
Because I want to feel
happy.
I’m tired of being
sad.

I want to stop feeling sorry for myself,
is that bad.
Is it bad to hurt or feel
pain?
Is it bad to hate this
game?
This game of
life.
Everyday.

“Are you up, or are you down?”
Why do I have to choose?
I don’t wanna be just
“OK”
everyday.
I don’t want to be
mediocre.
Do I even have a
choice?
So many questions unanswered,
is that my fault?

By the time I get to you
you’re already lost.
Either you’re far from me
or just floating right above me
telling me to
shut up.
And I try not to
look up.
But I do every time.
Then I start to cry.

“Oh Kaia, stop with the tears,
the theatrics,
stop with the emotions,
it’s just one of your tactics.”
“NO IT’S NOT” I scream at my mind
of all things.
It’s your fault
not mine
go, just
leave.
My thoughts,
my worst enemy.

“You’ll never be like them you’ll see,
you’ll end up broken battered and bruised.
It’ll be all on you.”
I don’t want to be mad.
I don’t want to be fatigued.
I don’t want to be torn
between two things.
I don’t want to be broken.
I don’t want to be bruised.
I’m tired of telling the truth and no one
believing.
How is that my fault?

Sitting and writing this is making
me sad.
I told you I didn’t want to be mad.
But, again with the emotions.
They don’t stop flowing.
I can’t make them stop.
They keep flowing
and flowing.

Screaming for the truth.
Screaming for a lie.
Screaming for a way I can make them stop.
“Stop it” I say,
with all of my might.
But they keep coming,
I try and put up a fight.
My hands turn to jelly,
my muscles won’t work.
I scream at her
but nothing ever works.

My brain takes off in a swirl of emotions,
I say things that make me wonder,
about love
about life
about living
about fights.
Everything makes me cry.
I want to run,
to go someplace else.
By my shoes are off
and my phone
is upstairs.
And my mind is saying
don’t you dare.

So,
since my mind takes over me.
I do what it tells me.
But not with all of my being.
Still mad,
still upset,
stop the theatrics.