There Is No Simple Answer

Why do I do these things?
Why do I feel the compulsive need to support my family and how did I get placed in the role of doing so for so many years?
How did I end up with children who are two to thirty years older than me?
And what did they see in me that labeled me as such a sucker?
How do I abruptly end what I have been doing for years?
And how do I finally claim the independence that I have been furiously seeking since the age of ten?
What tied me down to the family that I did not choose and the life that seems to haunt me still?
And why am I alright with it in the end?
Why do I defend the very thing that brings me the most frustration in life?
How did caregiver become the role that I play on a daily basis, when I simultaneously struggle to take care of myself properly?
What did I say to these people that convinced them that I would always be there for them?
And what did I do that proved that I have my shit together enough to provide for two?
How am I the only one who never fails to have an answer?
And what answers have others ever provided me with?
How have I become the source of answers while I am filled with so many questions?
And why do I seem to be the only one destined to struggle for the cause of others?
Why do these people seem to rely so heavily on my influence?
And what have I said that proved to them that I had it all together?
How do I find an out from this situation I have placed myself in?
And is an out what I really want in the end?
Would a life without family that is well cared for be worth living still?
And would I still receive the same sense of satisfaction if I no longer offered everything I have to help serve those I love?
What makes me inclined to be taken advantage of?
And what makes them inclined to take me for granted?
Did they ever even need my support?
Or is this something I have forced on them?
Can I only blame myself in the end? When did I have the opportunity to say no?
And when did I decide that is was better to just always say yes?
What sacrifices have I made over the years?
And how much more sacrifice am I willing to go through in order to continue serving others?
And in the end am I actually doing everyone involved a disservice?

My Life Resume

I was eight when I had my first experience with fear of extreme anger,
And I was practically silent when I was nine because of it,
I remember forcing myself to get over my social anxiety when I was ten,
And by the time I was eleven I moved school districts and out of the ghetto,
It took me until twelve to have friends once again,
But then I was thirteen when I had my first surprise party,
At fourteen I was first exposed to casual wealth,
And it was when I was fifteen that I realized I was a nerd,
At sixteen I traveled to my first international country,
And at seventeen I lost my father,
By the time I turned eighteen I lost all sense of the identity I once held,
I chose to finally lose my virginity at nineteen with a boy who I trusted,
And I chose to move to another country when I was just twenty,
I lived the life of a drunken vagrant when I was twenty-one,
And I landed my first salaried position at the age of twenty-two,
I was hospitalized four different times at the age of twenty-three,
And stopped drinking by the time I was twenty-four,
I found a release in writing when I was twenty-five,
And by twenty-six I was back at square one,
Now at twenty-seven I am discovering who I am supposed to be and what I can truly achieve.
The milestones mean nothing in the end,
And age is inconsequential.
Every defining moment I had can be summarized and excused in one line,
And while my resume holds nothing but facts,
My mind holds nothing but endless dreams,
But there is no place for me to combine the two and show myself what I have achieved.
Facebook isn’t an accurate portrayal of what I do with my social life,
And LinkedIn doesn’t even begin to describe the experiences I’ve had to pay the bills,
Instagram provides only the highlights of life,
And Twitter only offers a snapshot of my random thoughts.
The only thing I can trust any more is my writing,
And even that I have created a bias within,
Choosing to only share the thoughts I think my be worthy of my pen.
Where is the honest reflection I am searching for?
And where is the scrapbook that outlines all the experiences I’ve had in life?
Who can recount all of my life experiences in detail for me?
And who would really care about what I did ten years ago?
I do.

What I Would Say If I Could

You sit and bitch about what life has handed you,
But you do nothing about it.
You disclaim that you are suicidal,
But you see no reason to live life at the moment.
You say that you want more out of this life,
But you do nothing to go get it.
You whine, complain and put those around you down in a pursuit to justify where you stand.
You seek sympathy when I have none left to give.
Because you made choices that got you to where you are today.
And you had plenty of time to fix what you saw as broken.
You had support from me and an example of what change can truly be,
Yet you still refused to work for it,
And you never gave me credit for the work I did.
You see that my life has changed and you cannot deny that I have changed,
Yet you are still in the same place that I left you three years ago,
Suffering and complaining and unintentionally insulting all the hard work I put into life.
You make off handed comments that put me down and make me feel guilty for initiating change.
You demean my work experience and status that I worked so many years to obtain.
You claim woe-is-me when life doesn’t work out the way you had hoped,
But never admit that it might be you who is the cause of your woes.
You have been handed so much in life,
Yet you still claim to be robbed of so much more,
While here I am working to clean up after myself,
And am taken for granted when I clean up after you as well.
I have handed you everything for the past few years and you have handed nothing back,
I found a place to live,
I worked jobs I hated to pay our bills,
And I sacrificed a life I could have built to build one that supported you.
You never asked me to,
But with a true friend you should never have to.
I have been that true friend,
And you have been the only friend who takes me for granted.
So it’s time for you to finally figure it out.
I will listen and I will provide support,
But the time has come for you to finally figure your shit out.
I cannot do it for you,
And I won’t even attempt to,
Because I can no longer take care of you,
And you should no longer want me to.
You should want to pick yourself up and carry on,
And you should crave this inevitable change.
You are 29 and it is time,
To finally take charge of the life you call your own.
You should finally own up to what you want,
And you should finally put your head down and work for what that is,
You should accept no excuse for delay,
And you should be your own biggest motivator.
I cannot play that role for you,
And I cannot stress myself out with your lack of progress for much longer.
It is time for you to take charge.
I will listen and I will provide sympathy,
Because at the root of that is empathy,
And I have walked where you are walking,
And I have struggled through what you are facing,
And I am the one person who can truly feel the pain you feel.
But you have never listened to me when I speak,
And you have never taken my words as wisdom,
And you do not want to learn from my experiences,
Because all you seek is sympathy,
And empathy is nothing you have ever attempted,
And I am tired of being taken for granted,
And I am exhausted by putting you first,
And it is time for me to move on whether you like it or not,
And it is time for you to do the same.
Because I am done with this shit,
And I am done with your complaining,
And I am done attempting to relate to someone who only seeks sympathy and never takes action,
Because when I was that same person,
You were not there to help me.
You did not spend the time to listen to my struggle,
And although this is not about keeping score,
The score board is clear that I have been doing this for years,
And it is time for you to put some points on the board if you want me to continue to stick around,
Because I do not take friends who take me for granted lightly,
And I no longer stand for that kind of emotional abuse from anyone but my mother,
And although you will always be my brother,
You have proved that you will not always be my friend.
But that’s not what matters in the end.
What matters is what you prove to yourself,
And what frustrates me is that there is nothing you can be proud of,
Because you were never challenged,
And you never tried,
And I don’t know what keeps you motivated inside.
So, I love you and I care for you,
But this is where the sympathy ends.
This is where it’s all on you,
And this is when you must find something to do.
It could be cleaning or cooking,
Volunteering or working,
Fanciful or practical,
Demeaning or up lifting.
You just have to do something.
You have to move on.
It is time for change,
Or at least it is for me,
Because I cannot take this pressure any longer,
And you should no longer want to bestow it on me.
I was never you mother and I was never your lover,
And I do not know what I am getting out of this friendship any longer,
Besides a comfort in a lack of change,
And an excuse for being deranged.
So this is when it ends,
And this is where you should begin,
Because this is when I make my exit,
And I do it without regret,
Because you had years to ask my for advice,
And I had years of being dragged down by your strife,
But I won’t take it any longer,
And you can fall or you can follow,
It makes no difference to me,
Because now I am finally allowing myself to be free.

Celebration Rings Hollow

There was something missing in my celebration —
Something that conveyed a sense of hollowness in a moment of joy,
And something that did not allow me to feel a complete sense of accomplishment.
There was something nagging at my heart,
And it distracted me from the moment of pride that was supposed to overwhelm me.
I could not give it a name,
But I felt its presence like a shadow I could not shake,
Chilling my heart which was supposed to be filled with pride,
And subduing my excitement when it was supposed to be overflowing.
It dragged me every so slightly down,
Like a weight on a balloon seeking freedom in the skies,
And it tugged me back to a state of indifference from an attempt to feel elated.
I did not resent it though,
Because for as long as I have known its presence,
I have accepted it for what it is —
I have accepted that I cannot feel complete joy,
And I recognize that there is a hollow feature to my celebrations.
I choose to share my accomplishments with little to no one,
And I often opt for celebration in solitude,
Because there is someone missing from it all.
There is one set of eyes I want to see a reflection of pride in,
And one person I will never see again.
There is one mind that I am missing the influence of,
And one example that I wish I could follow.
There is one person I want to impress,
And I never will be able to share anything with them again.
So I am left feeling hollow,
And I am left to celebrate in solitude,
And continue to push away the feeling that something is missing,
Because life robbed me of my father too young,
And I will always ache to share my life with the man I miss the most.