I needed to write. To get ideas out on paper. To get out of
my head. To express myself. I’ve been nervous to do so because I’m SAD and MAD
and FRUSTRATED by life and people aren’t used to seeing me that way.
I’m usually the happy one with a big smile on my face.
I’m usually the one making other people feel better.
I’m usually the one finding the silver lining in crappy
situations.
Now I’m the one that’s barely hanging on. And I don’t know
what I need. Or if “anything” will actually make me feel better. But it feels
like people want me to magically be back to old Mika. For me to get better. For me to be happy. For me to
have it together. However that’s not happening!
I’m grieving.
I miss my daddy.
I’m sad and mad.
I miss my daddy.
I’m not motivated to do schoolwork.
I miss my daddy.
I’m tired all the time.
I miss my daddy.
So, I decided to write a poem. A poem about how I’m in a
place where I feel like no one really gets me as I grieve. Many folks want to
be helpful, and most are. I'm SO grateful for the many people who have surrounded me the past 3 months and beyond. However, no one, not even my twin sister who I share
DNA with fully understands what my grief looks like because it’s unique to me
and my relationship with my daddy. This poem is me taking space to express myself and to get back into a habit of writing.
No one gets me
No one gets my smile.
That the curve of my lips
Is all muscle memory.
Automatic in its expression
Of a life that has been all smiles.
When the lips are conscious,
Their curve bends down,
My head feels the weight of the crown,
Of the grief that I wear.
Not one gets my crown.
The one no one can see
Because it’s hidden in the twists of my hair
I cannot stand to bare,
The heartache of the grief.
Three months seem like one day
Hurts more than the call that January day,
Because my heart now feels what my head always knew.
No one gets my heart.
For it lost a piece of its soul
That daddy’s little girl could always return to.
The rhythm now off beat
Each small step feels like a feat,
That my mind is not prepared to conquer.
No one gets my mind
The safety net of my being
Is now crumbling in front of me.
Fog plaguing every bend
No focus or motivation within,
To see the life that is in front of me.
No one gets my eyes.
That no longer flow tears
Because my sadness is much deeper.
Keeping the sparkle alive
So those around me thrive,
As my eyes give what the rest of me cannot.
No one gets me.
