Prose Poem

Always Being Told

I wait for them to tell me all the ways I’m not enough

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I wait for them to tell me where I’ve gone wrong. Where I’ve coloured outside the lines, broken a rule I didn’t know existed, or misspelled a word they once said I’d never need to learn. I wait for them to tell me I laughed at the wrong time, sang off-key, cared too much. I wait for them to remind me that they liked my voice best when it was silenced.

I wait for them to tell me to track every calorie, then ask why I can’t just eat that piece of cake. To tell me to change the reflection in the mirror, then scold me for the self-esteem they helped dismantle. To tell me I should sleep with one eye open, then blame my exhaustion on the monster under my bed.

I wait for them to remind me the clock is ticking, then ask why I can’t slow down. To shine a light on the regrets I’ve trained myself to forget, then fault me for living in the past. To tell me to climb toward the summit, only to demand I come right back down so they can tower over me once more. I wait for them to tell me to grow wings so I can leave the nest, then advise me to cut them off the moment I’ve flown too high for their comfort.

I wait for them to tell me to bloom where I’m planted, then pluck my petals before they’ve even seen the sun. To…