Being an Adult By Myself

My mother carried me around the same way she carried her purse;

Right by her side, hanging off her shoulder.

The only catch- you can't be emotionally available to a purse.


My mother went to work every day to put a roof over my head.

My mother went to the couch after work because she was too tired to do anything else.

My mother went to the courthouse without me to get married to a person I despise.

By myself, I had to learn how to deal with the fast paced bangbangbang of my heart when I was anxious.

By myself, I had to learn how to get out of bed when my depression strapped me under the covers and I couldnt go to school.

By myself, I had to learn how to cope with the emptiness my brother shot into my chest when he left.


When needed, my mom would make certain appointments for me:

The dentist, a doctor, something for school. 

We would sit in the waiting room together while she filled out all of the paperwork

As I sat next to her, silently. 


My mother carried me with her money and not with her heart.

There was food in my stomach and a phone to attach myself to.

That was her way of caring I suppose; except, money can't fix a mother-daughter relationship.


My mother left and moved to a different state.

My mother left with her husband to see different cities while working at the same time.

My mother left without teaching me how to be an adult by myself.

By myself, I moved into my aunt and uncle's house.

By myself, I got car insurance.

By myslef, I applied for college.


When needed, my mother doesn't call.

I make my appointments on my own; the dentist, the doctor, something for school.

I wait in the waiting room by myself, fidgeting with the pen I use to fill out the paperwork when I don't know the answer

As I sit by myself, silently.




This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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