An Antithetical Ode to 20
And so I keep singing the same song over and
over
Hoping that at some point it will cause
my mother’s eyes to light up the way they did upon my initiation into the ivy league
Or the talented tenth
For the way my underdeveloped mind could dance circles around the grown-ups in gowns at galas
For my string playing, phonetically obeying, strategic displaying of everything that can fit inside a box
For every time I managed to outperform myself or be more of a doll
The generational bridge between us defined not so much by time
But by the way the placements in her Zodiac chart float up to the latter 6 houses
While mine find themselves strung out in the depths of the former
Because she is scattered
I am condensed
Because she is Love
I am Beloved
And so,
though I want her to tell me that I am an anomaly within a well-oiled machine
She says she will not lie to me
But no I must write poetry and not its kin
I must believe in myself
You’re 20 years old and
“If you don’t believe in yourself no one else will”
My grandmother believed in me
She believed in me at 10 when she left her jewelry to me from her deathbed
I am still sitting by her hospital throne as Steve Jobs’ death is announced on the television set radiating next to her
RADIATION, that’s what caused the cancer
When I wake up with my devices millimeters away from my head or my vagina
I wonder if I’m fucking up my brain or my ability to bear children
children
You’re 20 and you’re a child but you’re thinking about children
And when you should have them and who you want to have them with
And you meet these men and they look into your eyes and ask if they can share your pillow (we all know you’re doing it, even if we never say it)
And suddenly you’re convinced you want to be somebody’s mother
You want to be somebody’s mother at 20
Because then there would be someone in the world who would always need you
Oh to be needed
10 years ago I was 10 and I listened to my grandmother
A woman who raised me
Who washed my face at the sink in the morning
Bequeath her jewelry to me while she called out to her sister and her mother on the other side
10 years ago I was 10 and I watched my grandfather
A man who fathered me
Who passed me chewing gum from the front seat of the car
Go comatose and wither away while we tried to lure him back to this side of paradise
This side of hell
Now I’m 20 sitting in a towel on the couch in my studio apartment
Sobbing tears from my eyes and blood from my fucking uterus
that I want TO TEAR OUT OF MY FUCKING BODY
But I’m just 20
But I’m not a woman I’m more than a woman
But I’ll be His muse and
His doll and
His pretty woman
Because once you’re 20 you might as well be 21 or 25
or 30
No one cares
They’ll ask you what you’ll have and bring it to you too
with mint and a splash of bitters on top
(Little do they know you’ve been playing this game for the last decade
And while they’re ready to see you off on your journey all you want to be is someone’s daughter)
And men today are so silly
He’ll eat you out and make sure to tell you he does it because he likes it
God forbid he does anything simply for the sake of making someone else feel good (his poor wife)
And women today are so silly
She’ll call you a narcissist because she’s too insecure to love herself
God forbid she deletes Instagram and picks up Lean In
I’m 20 years old and I have to believe in myself
My friends are rich and their names are on the tv
And I’m 20 sitting in a white towel on the couch in my studio apartment
Sobbing tears from my eyes and blood from my fucking uterus
And everyone wants something from you
Wants you to be smart for them
Wants you to be brave for them
Strong for them
Hot for them
Make them feel good
Make them feel like good lovers
good friends
good parents
But I’m 20 years old and I don’t fucking believe in myself
I work at a bar and try to convince myself that I’d be happy doing it for the next 40 years
Because I expect other people to make me feel like I’m good at what really gets me going
convince me that I have a pretty enough face and a tiny enough waist to flaunt across people’s screens and make them cry
I dye my hair and buy new clothes
I write in the second person
Talk in the third
Rage over the people who have left me
Alone
In this city
In this state
In this world
Anything to avoid actually saving myself
Anything to avoid
Rejection
And yet that bastard keeps finding my ass
I’m 20 years old and if I don’t start fucking believing in myself no one ever will
My friends are older than me
With degrees under their belts and love beneath their wings
I’ve been in therapy for the last five years trying to build a foundation
I’ll never keep up
I’ll never catch up
I’ll never get it together
That’s just how it feels when you’re 20
And you’re trying so hard to be bigger than 20
When really all you want is to be smaller than 10
again