human. for me.

 when was it that i became so perfect that i am expected of perfection all of the time from everyone and their favorite thing to say is ‘wow, you’ve really disappointed me today’.  i may try not to let others down but that doesn’t mean i want to be put up on a pedastool or that i need to hear how my human-ness has ruined something yet again, for you. my mistakes always come with a hefty price tag and i am belittled and scolded like a child caught with their hand in the preverbial cookie jar. i didn’t ask for this, did nothing to b ring this on to me, because i am just me and i have had to be okay with that for so long it has become quite the second nature and perhaps after all these years it should become okay with you too. i never promised it would all be roses or any other over used phrase explaining perfection that is so impossible to achieve. i can  own up to what i do wrong, even when i am only hurting me, what more can i do, for you? sometimes i feel as though i am being beat down to a pulp and when i rise from the ashes i may burn everyone in my path. i have so much hate built up inside because i don’t ever say what i am thinking, i never ask why you are being so mean or what did i ever do to you, for you.  i have this urge to give and give and give again and i guess i never realized how selfish you are. things are okay sometimes, until they aren’t, and then they become my fault and i feel the wrath and i hear the anger and i think, god, how can i spend my life with you when we are so utterly different? sometimes i want so badly to do good things for good things sake and you are always wondering what you can get in return. i make excuses for people and circumstances i could  never quite understand because i would never want anyone to blame me simply for being me. i am the one who has to deal with the scars that heal ever so slowly and yet you want me to apologize for the pain i have inflicted on myself, for you? and i’ll do it because it sits there getting undone until i do and it’s like the suitcase on the stairs that you wait for the other one to pick up because they should for one reason or another and instead let your marriage end over it. i’m not sure i could marry you in good faith, even though you must ask when, not until this feeling of just for now turns in to something that feels like forever. i don’t know if i could stand you forever. you are mean, and i am not, for you. all i want is for the miniature version of myself to know right from wrong, good from bad, and i am not sure that i trust you to teach it. because how sorry can you be when you have to apologize all the time? i know i’m not and sometimes i just say it to hear myself speak, for you.  i can not,  will not, let this all phase me, change me, stop me from being me, for you. if i had to give up who i was, how i felt, what i thought, why i did it, i’d have to kill me, for me.