the plague of 8:08pm

I was 6 days late,

overdue like some library book,

6 extra days of pregnancy that she still blames me for.

The results say I have an 'undersized' stomach organ,

but that never coincided with my appetite.

And people prod at 103 pounds of small bones,

but they weren't on the other end of those phone calls from the 'concerned mom's' that saw a ninth-grade shutout inhaling anorexia.

'Concerned mom's' don't know how many nachos I inhaled before soccer practice.

My brain wasn't sick, my body was.

is*

I fell on the edge of the sidewalk, bleeding out against black tar,

while my brother pressed his heels against the damage and left me there, facedown,

without a phone call to my name.

My brother left me bleeding on a sidewalk.

I guess his headache couldn't take it.

I spent my 18th birthday on the side of the road, alone,

with my head against the cement,

a mixture of prayers and profanities.

I hit that same head against a wall for hours, all because a girl once said it was impossible not to get a 3.0 GPA. 

I should've been proud of myself for the junior high anxiety that achieved 'the impossible'.

But all I heard was her crooning kindness reassuring me that I was a ring on the finger of failure.

That was before the bottle of pills punctured the disability,

after the ski passes expired,

when prayers & profanities won the war against depression.

And a 2.7 became a 4.0 and that 4.0 got rejected.

I wonder if the barrier between our lungs will ever fall down.

I wonder if we'll ever stop competing with our apologies,

I've only ever been sorry for people.

One of them being myself.

Without rhyme or reason,

while people in the Middle East died over a handful of love,

while foreign language found words that punctured hearts,

and mothers watched caskets sink,

and fathers washed money down with alcohol, 

and poisoned their houses,

I was sorry for my wash bucket of pills & the friendless birthday party I planned, alone.

The selfish side of me died when I bit hard and broke my teeth.

They're not growing back,

but I don't want them anymore.