Why me? I ask myself when I start my prayers.
Why am I the soul to be abused by these people in the world?
Is it me? Is it just because? Or is it if that didn’t happen to me,
I would be one of those brats in the world who get handed everything.
Because there doesn’t need to be another one of those in this world.
And all my questions get answered with
No. Maybe. Maybe.
I have all these
Thoughts. Questions. Statements.
Scattered in my brain,
Draining down to my heart,
Leaving me with mixed emotions.
I never got handed anything my whole life.
I never got to earn anything my whole life.
I had to make it on my own.
And get it on my own.
Raising three sisters as if I’m their mother.
Their mother should be taking care of them.
And taking care of me.
Instead she left our souls
Rotting in maturity.
Molding in trust issues
Or dependence on others.
I never had a shoulder to cry on.
I had to cry on my own.
If anybody would ask,
I would say that I’m fine.
“Fine.”
The only word in my vocabulary of emotions.
Because once again, I had nobody there to teach me
Sad, angry, happy.
But it’s fine…. Right?
It had to be.
Or else
If I overthink, it’s all downhill.
Because I slip from the spilt tears.
So, why me?
--Veronikah G., 6th-8th Grade
