On unwanted sacrifices

When I was seven, I realised for the first time my parents loved me too much
I might have been eight, but definitely not nine
Because I was nine they began to realise they loved me too much
I wanted colour pencils to complete a shitty drawing
I have about a hundred soft toys and nearly a thousand books, all purchased at retail prices in a bookstore with atmosphere
Which means those are expensive ass books
But somehow I couldn't scavenge 7 different colours together
So I told my father to  buy me some colour pencils.

He bought me a 72 set.
I don't know why I got so upset and why I threw a tantrum
It's just a fucking 72 set of colour pencils.
He decided to spend fifty dollars on colour pencils so be it it's his own fucking money
I think I made him cry

I don't know why I do the things I do
I don't know why I hurt people so much
I can't help being selfish
And in my selfish moods I let myself hurt them

When I was nine my mother came to me crying
I couldn't find my uniform that morning, and I blew her off
I remember my father saying mean things to her
For hindering me
I've always been daddy's girl

I don't understand why people do things for me,
and why they do things I don't want them to do
I guess at times I choose to be a martyr
Hoping you would oppose my decisions
You do things I don't want you, don't need you to do

When I think of my future, half the time I don't see you there
I'm happy, I'm rich. I'm tending to my orchard with my four sons.
Half the time, we are lying in bed painting constellations with syllables.
Truth is, you are my best friend. I don't feel close to people anymore.
I think that is why I am so apathetic.

I feel like
I may be getting tired of you
My mother says mean things about you
Compares you to boys who buy me necklaces and break my heart
Sometimes I get tired of the routine
How we find treaties in our bodies

I like feeling attractive
I like feeling wanted
If I want you to pluck the moon from its starry mist, you probably would present me with a tarnished platter of stardust
But isn't stardust just cheap glitter come morning?

But I need you, your touch, your wandering breaths
Or perhaps, I just need to be craved
I say I love you,
I really hope I do

On being happy

I am scared
I am scared of:
Library fines, because who has $231?
Empty beds, because it's cold not sleeping in your embrace
Monologues, because I am not Catherine the Great
I am not anything great
I do not have anything to offer except borrowed money and a substandard body

I do not like:
Being inferior, because PSAT scores make me sad
Being compared, because mama I can't be your pride and precious
Being slighted, because I was raised as a pride and precious

Doubts creep
Speculations over  facebook chat
I'm not the sort of person to end things
I want everything and everyone and I guess
That is why I'm a bad person to love

It's times like these that I miss being held
Lately my words have been getting harsher, facetiously burning
Blithe behaviour that those with wisdom frown upon
I don't care
I just want to have fun
I do not wish to hurt