Dear Mom.

 

On days like this

when I can’t get out of bed to go to school,

it’s not because I just don’t want to go to school.

I know how much work I’m missing,

and I know I’ll have to spend several days with my teachers

just to make up today’s lesson.

 

But when there are elephants standing on your chest

you would find it hard to get up too.

 

On days like this

I believe in ghosts

because there are voices in my head

that I don’t recognize.

When I tell you I’m scared

don’t tell me I’m just tired.

I know I’m tired.

 

There are subtle disasters every day

and I am one of them.

 

You say that there are kids in Africa

who are worse off than I am

but there are also lots of shades of blue,

and is any sadder than the others?

 

The sound of your cooking sounds like

tearing paper

and when I tell you this

you sigh.

It’s as if you’ve forgotten what I do

when I come home with a B.

 

But don’t ask me where these papercuts came from

because I can’t tell you that they’re not papercuts.

 

And don’t forget to wash your hands before you give me food

because if I don’t know you’re clean I’m not eating.

If I’m not clean then I’m not eating.

Hell, if the air’s not clean then I’m not eating.

 

You’ll tell me I’m getting thinner

and I’m not sorry for laughing.

Because no matter how many times I look

that scale still says “too fat”

and that lump on my stomach isn’t going away.

 

When you tell me to focus on my homework

my mind’s off in Yellowstone by the supervolcano

and in Turkey with the refugees

and in the living room

because my cat just puked on the carpet

and I’m afraid to breathe.

 

And playing Pokémon isn’t a waste of time,

because in one world I’m a loser with no talent

and in the other I’m the champion.

 

So on days like this

when you have a lot to say

and I’m locked inside my head

don’t take out the loudspeakers.

Just stay quiet.

Because this is where I was meant to be.