TO THE PEOPLE WHO STOOD BY WATCHING MY BULLIES BREAK ME

What good is your apology to me now that my world has changed?
Every thing is a trigger now.

When people on competitive reality shows win, I cry.
That could have been me feeling that way.
And you could have been the people whose cheers echo in my room,
but on this laptop on which I watch these YouTube videos to a version of me my dreams have lost,
the keyboard keys are the only sound I hear while I write down my hurt.

Every thing is a trigger now.

I can’t make friends because I don’t trust the world with my weirdness.
Was I always weird to begin with, or did your silence, and the loudness of your desire to fit in mold my narrative into that of a freak?
Even if I wanted to, I can’t unwish the loneliness you cast on me that I wished on you then.

A lonely boy sleeps quick so he doesn’t have to feel left out of life itself.
Every thing is a trigger now.

My wasted tears can water a tree that will now leaf into shadows for the broken hearted
as you left nothing for me to own and no one for me to, too.
The fact that you’re not doing good in life does me no good, even if you think it should.
See, nor am I - doing good.

Every thing is a trigger now.

So whenever you feel the need to use the miracle of electrons powering insecurities to get to me and apologize.
Don’t.

I wish you knew how to stand up to yourself.
I wish I knew how it feels to belong.
I don’t want to relive my life in someone else’s memories of my hurt.

Your presence in mine is enough, staying away and reaching out are the same either way.
Everything is a trigger now.