Some of them do at least.

Anxiety and Anger like me not

But Misery loves company.

As I sit and cry,

I'm joined by a demon,

Who cries with me

As if hurt just as I.

What did I do to have a friend like this?

I don't know.

At least this demon is a comfort

not a hindrance.

I don’t speak

Its been a tough week

It’s hard to speak up

So I sit here quietly, I won’t interrupt

I’m scared of what people think of me

And it gets so hard to breathe

I could be standing in a crowd, they could be saying nothing

But their presence is so loud it feels like they are judging

I can feel this fantasy rejection

And just like wifi, I’m losing connection

They blame it on society

That it is the reason I have Social Anxiety

But that’s not the matter

Because I feel as if I’m about to shatter

And that feeling of nervousness comes creeping quietly

Followed by the rest of my anxieties

I am a really nice person but whenever I think to say hello

My self-consciousness comes in, and its something I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow

And I see judgment in your eyes

My mind keeps producing these lies

And I’m on a steady decline

that I wish I could define

My voice I do not own

So I stand here alone

Choking on my words

While I watch my tiny world burn

Dear Mom, I know,

That I’m not the perfect child you’ve always wanted.

Dear Mom, I know,

That I can never be half as good as you.

Dear Mom, I know,

That I am often the embodiment of disappointment.

Dear Mom, I know,

That I am not able to fulfil most of the wishes that you have.

Dear Mom, I know,

That I don't really have all the good traits you wanted to inculcate in me.

Dear Mom, I know,

That you still want to love me despite all my faults.

But

Dear Mom,

Why can’t you ever understand how I feel?

Why can't you ever understand what I want?

Why can't you ever understand who I am?

Why do you never really listen to me?

Dear Mom, I know,

That you just hear what I have to say,

But you never actually stop and listen to me.

I might go to the hilltops

And scream out to you

Into a loudspeaker,

But you still will pay no attention

To my bleeding words.

Dear Mom, you know,

I really try sometimes,

To bare my heart out to you;

Because I’m not the kind of person

To sit and share sob stories around a bonfire.

But you never try to feel me,

Never try to see it from my perspective,

Always blame someone or something

To have influenced me.

Dear Mom, you know,

What I do,

How I think,

What is going on in my head,

Is not always influenced by people in my surroundings.

Maybe it’s just me, Mom,

Maybe it’s me in here,

Thinking in a new way;

In a way I’ve never thought before.

Have you ever thought of that?

Have you ever thought

“My daughter has a mind of her own”?

Because

Dear Mom, I know

I’m not the easiest person to deal with,

But have you ever stopped and tried to listen

To what I have to say?

Dear Mom, I know

I have failed

In certain aspects in my life

And changed my mind many a times

Along the journey.

But have you ever thought in this way?

That it’s not because of fear

That I’m backing out of here

But because I don’t want it anymore?

Because

Dear Mom, I know

It’s a big scary world out there

And I always thought I knew what I wanted

But

Dear Mom,

Now that I’ve grown up a little,

Maybe it's not the same anymore,

Maybe it’s not what I want anymore.

Dear Mom, I know,

That I hide things from you

But it’s not because I don’t want to tell you.

But because you would never see eye to eye with me.

Dear Mom, I know,

I am not the easiest person to read

But you claim you know me,

That you know, each and every aspect of me.

But can you ever see through me

When I’m at my worst?

Or holding back tears from in front of everyone?

Or when my lips are quivering from anger

But I cannot speak out loud?

Or when I am tired of everything

And just need a small break?

Or when my mind is screaming and bawling

But my mouth remains closed?

Or when I am smiling through my tears?

Or when I am truly happy with what I am doing?

Or when I'm really at my best?

Dear Mom, I know,

That when I ask you this question,

Your natural instinct would be to say yes;

But

Dear Mom,

If you did really question yourself

And answered it honestly,

I know your answer will not be the same.

Because, Mom, you never try to stop and listen to me.

Dear Mom, I know,

That you might know me

But you really don’t know anything about me.

Yes, we might speak the same language

But our words are so lost in interpretation.

But

Dear Mom, I also know,

If you ever closed your eyes and

Tried to hear what I hear,

Tried to see what I see,

Tried to feel what I feel,

You would understand me a little better then;

Understand what I want,

Understand how I feel,

Understand who I really am.

Because

Dear Mom, you know,

I’m just a simple 19 year old girl,

With a little hope in her heart,

And a few dreams in her head.

my brother and i used to play a game

he'd tell me "don't think of pink elephants"

and see how long i could go.

until one day,

a pink elephant showed up in my basement,

summoned by my thoughts.

we had lots of fun with my pink elephant.

i named her pastel.

so my brother tried something new.

he said, "don't think about alligators."

and one day,

an alligator showed up in my basement.

we had fun with him.

he was a nice alligator.

until one day, just like pastel before him,

he faded,

and my brother and i tried again.

"don't think about butterflies."

i thought about butterflies.

i couldn't help it,

it was a reflex.

and together, me and my brother

we danced in fields of monarchs.

as i got older, my brother

stopped making requests.

there was less of a need for animals

and more of a need for shelter.

my dad went on a business trip

and mommy got mad at him

and now daddy's not around anymore,

and mommy doesn't have time to take care of us.

she doesn't make pancakes like she used to.

and my brother spends all his time at school.

even though he buries himself in his studies,

he always gets bad grades,

and once something called a truancy officer came.

he doesn't have time to

imagine animals with me.

i'm lonely.

i'm almost in middle school,

but nobody talks to me.

i tried to tell them about my animals,

but everyone laughed at me.

so i go through school with my head held down.

mommy used to talk to daddy about how i was

on the spectrum.

i don't know what that means,

but i feel like i should.

i feel like i should know a lot of things,

but i don't know them.

so i sat on the edge of the bridge

and looked at the sun.

it burned my eyes.

"don't think about cats,"

i whispered into the wind.

for a moment i wondered

if a cat would show up at all.

maybe i lost my animals

just like i lost my daddy and mommy

and even my big brother.

but there, behind me,

was a cat.

he was big and fluffy,

and he looked at me with sleepy eyes.

i hugged my new cat,

and from deep in its throat,

a hum emerged.

it was like music.

the cat was happy,

happy in its simple life full of love.

i wish i could be like this cat.

i hugged the cat close,

and i was very glad

that i thought about cats.

Dear Writing Community,

I received a rejection letter yesterday and felt elated.

Dear AA,

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to read 'Keisha, Smile' for consideration in our 2020 _____ Flash Fiction Contest, judged by ______. We can send so few pieces into the next round, we do have to release work we like very much—we're sorry your entry has not advanced.

We're grateful you chose to share your writing with us, and for your support. We wish you the best of luck with your writing and hope that you will send us work again. 

Sincerely,

The Editors

I had written about a girl with an incurable disease; a work of pseudo-fiction that these editors had perhaps actually read through to the finish. It was embarrassingly honest, as is most of my writing. I had almost retracted it.

Perhaps they send this out to everyone, regardless of anything. But it reads nicely, and I felt hopeful. It came months after submitting it and I wonder if they had held onto it for consideration.

My only hope is that I am not scattered going forward.

I have a habit of switching words around in my writing. For my most recent piece I submitted to a writing contest (not "Keisha, Smile"), I noticed after I submitted it that it contained one error, and that was flipping "could not" to "not could" in a sentence. I am constantly flipping words around; perhaps I have mild dyslexia, perhaps I am anxious, perhaps I am overly zealous. My processing speed doesn't match my typing abilities.

Perhaps this reads like a journal entry.

I hope for those who want to submit to writing contests, that they are not deterred. We are all excellent at writing. I am in awe of so many of the writers on here.

I write and I write and I write and hopefully someday, I will cringe in a good way when it gets published. For being too honest, but for being open and unabashedly who I am.

A thanks and best wishes,

AA