Missing Person (poem)

Poem Prompt: Who took away your weirdness?

a woman hiding behind a curtain with a triangular patchwork design

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I've always been "weird", but that weirdness was not always celebrated. In fact, it was shunned and made to feel wrong, even burdensome. So, I did what most kids did best: I played pretend... I imagined that I could shrink myself to keep myself from harm's way. Basically, I self-silenced and became less me. I played solo hide and seek, but if I'm being honest, it was much more hide than it ever was seek. Even if it was never said outright (it was in my case), my parents wanted a different kid. I may have contorted myself into what I thought they wanted, but the criticizing still came. I stuffed down my weirdness for what? Acceptance (from them) was never in the cards for me because they couldn't accept themselves. I'm stepping more into my weirdness these days, but it's still hard to do unless it's around people I'm very close with, and even then, I still panic internally... What if I crossed the line? When is my weird too weird?

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She siphoned it without my knowledge.

I simply woke up one day,

and it was gone with the winter wind.

I stuffed down my giggle fits

and donated my strange outfits

and stilled my limbs

and dimmed myself

to simmering silence

until it made me sick

and for the life of me

couldn't get to the bottom of it.

My dresser mirror who had held me in its gaze

thousands of times over didn't even recognize me.

But you did.

I was the daughter you always wanted,

right?

I molded myself into the model citizen,

dial set to "out of sight, out of mind".

So compliant and agreeable and small,

the perfect size.

(I stopped being in the way!)

Your way was the only way I went

until forced normalcy started to suffocate my soul,

and I couldn't walk your talk, let alone crawl.

You wanted normal?

You got divergent

in every sense of the word

and didn't know what to do with it,

so you killed it little by little.

But you killed a fucking phoenix.

Go figure!

Let that sink in at your leisure.

But if/when it ever does, I'll be long gone—

far, far away in the arms

of safe spaces in people form

who celebrate my weirdness in totality, not this learned charm.

-Denying the true self is a form of self-harm

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