Laura Ingalls and the Fear of Intimacy

thealuminummonster:

Listen, I know there were days you wanted to die

when the sky was so clear

you’d stand obnoxious underneath it

begging for stars to shoot you

just so you could feel at home.

I know about the ways you misplaced all the right words,

stockpiled every important social cue you ever missed

from the first time you learned you were wrong,

waited to make it right

once everyone stopped watching.

I know you let them beat up your beauty in bed

because redemption was still alive in you, howling relentless, gathering strength.

Felt like ecstasy when they pounded it out of you in the hard dark.

Those days of dead weather

got all strung together

and they spoke for you,

wore you down to telling everyone here it was a good life

so you could run back into the wails of your windfight.

I know the parts of your past that haunt you the most

are the days you weren’t being yourself,

and I know that’s why most of your past haunts you.

There were so many who found you out,

and they were right.

You were good.