I am not who you think I am. I have a heart, unlike the plastic barbies we played with as children. My mind is an escapade of thoughts that fly, like we did on the trampoline that our brothers begged us for a turn on.

I am not your doll. I am not your doll. I am not your doll. You don't get to play with me and throw me away in the trash. Because that's now how I feel. Like garbage, ready for your dad to take out to the alley at night, after dinner.

You tell me none of this happened. Maybe you want to forget too. Maybe you are as fickle in memory as you are with friends. What happened to you now. Volleyball scholarship up north some where. I don't care. Maybe I do. Because you're still living your life while I'm laying in bed crying at 4 o'clock in the morning and 2 in the afternoon about what you did.

We were only kids.

Why did you make my childhood end so soon.

You pull me away at the knees and make me do the same to you. You pretend it's a game. A secret game, to make me more fascinated. But it's wrong. It was wrong. Just wrong. I didn't want to. But you convinced me. Just like you did on your high school debate team. But I'm no argument to be won. That shouldn't had even been a discussion. That was no argument on animal rights or political adversity. That was me. My body. My soul. You took a piece of me away like your dog did one time during a puzzle we were putting together on your kitchen table. We quit that puzzle right after. And threw it away. It was missing a piece so what was the point? I guess that's the same idea with me.

Give me back my childhood. Give me back the part of me that's missing. That will make me stop spiraling whenever I hear certain words, or read certain things, or someone touches me certain ways. I shake. My hand won't stop shaking. Give me back me.

Sincerely,

The porcelain doll

Chipped, broken, shattered.