Brialee Turner

I’ll never be tall enough
to reach the expectations
that you have set for me.

I’ll never be able to
pay you for what you feel like
I owe to you.

I will never be perfect enough
to satisfy the hopes and
unfulfilled wishes and
dreams that you want for
*my* life.

I will never understand
why I am treated
so differently than the others,
why I need to fight so
hard for you to be proud of me.

Why *do* I need you to be proud of me?

Why do I so desperately try to *earn* your love?

It’s like my life is a sunday school class,
and the instructor is telling us,
“you don’t have to qualify for the love of Jesus,
BUT you do need to give up
ten percent of your paycheck
and be perfect
and dress a certain way
and talk like this
and act like us
and follow the plan that he
died for so that you can feel
his love”.

I’m sick of trying to fit in the boxes that
you say I need to,
because I am done cutting off
my fingers and my arms
and my toes and legs
and stabbing my stomach and my heart
and tearing at my lungs
and rearranging my ears
and eyes
and mouth
and letting my brain bleed out
in order to shove myself
into this narrative.

I’ll never be tall enough
to reach the expectations
that you have set for me,

and why would I want that, if being “enough” is what it takes to earn your love?

And before you accuse me of
“giving up”
or “not reaching my potential”
or “changing the rules”
let me remind you that
it’s not shameful to walk away
from what’s hurting you
so deeply that you question
your own sanity.

It’s about safety,
not laziness.
I would rather preserve my body,
my mind,
my life,
than try to be “enough” for you.

I’ll never be tall enough
to reach the expectations
that you have set for me…