Poem ahead...

I can’t remember the last time I experienced a “family”

You know? Like the ones from the movies and TV shows.

The ones that sit around a table, pass around the food and even say a prayer.

For us, there’s been a table, but it’s only a place to reserve food, rather than a place of gathering.

There is no gathering at all.

There are pieces of members in different households,

Different plates being made.

If I’m lucky, I can catch a glimpse of my aunt’s famous Mac and Cheese…

When she drops it off and drives away saying, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

When reflecting on the missing faces in the room, the empty table,

I want to become someone else,

I want us to become something else.

“Is it my fault?” I dare not ask the question out loud.

Once upon of time, I’ve been told it was.

Just when I’m about to sink into pity, I wake up to face old memories.

I remember the cold eyes glancing at me from around the room.

The “family,” - My “family,” were indulging in a conversation about me…

Little old, invisible me.

About the Me that was years ago,

The Me I am constantly being judged for.

The new me has no voice or defense to stop the harmonious stinging chants:

“She’s evil.” She hates everyone.” Why is she in her room all day? ”Remember what she said in middle school?”

You would think I was a criminal, someone to be exiled.

Who have I hurt through my mistakes besides myself?

My hands shake to their draining rhythm.

They laugh, but I know I am not supposed to join.

I want to run away so I can stop fighting my tears,

But the only place to escape to is my room.

And I would hate to give them another reason to shrink my being to the ground.

With that memory fresh on my brain,

I remind myself of my place in the “family.”

And it’s no longer a vision I want to fulfill.

I will make my bed a table,

Balance my drink on the carpet,

With the TV flashing in front of me.

Through each huge bit, I hope to win the fight against that pathetic part of me,

Because it misses the Family.