I remember telling my mom for the first time
I was in her room
I sat there
crying
I couldn't speak
I just thought I can't go back now
she had to guess what happened
it was the worst game of charades I had ever played
when she finally realized
I felt like it was done,
I had done my part
I had warned everyone, I blew the whistle
I didn't realize that it was one of those whistles that only dogs and parents could hear
a few minutes after crying and crying
she tells me
did you tell anyone,
don't tell anyone,
it can ruin his life.
so it's ok that he ruined mine, but not ok if I tell the truth?
I thought her, of all people, would understand, would be on my side,
now I live a life of blocking memories out, repressing anything that could make me feel
like I am the odd one out.