My Name

You call me everything but my name. Ungrateful because I asked for you to fix my phone after you had just finished paying for the shattered screen of my old phone. Aggressive due to that one time that I shattered the whole entire mirror wall of the bathroom and broke the sink. Inconsiderate whenever I turn on the shower, not to shower but to soak in the heat through my skin. Bone-idle for all the times that I have woken up and went back to sleep for the whole day. Callous because I do not like hugs and I am uncomfortable with the phrase "I love you." Cantankerous due to all the times in which I have exploded on people for no reason. You called me a piece of trash. Within a few years you found out that I as crying myself to sleep while blood seeped through my sweater sleeves. In that same year, we both found out that I am bipolar, depressed, and filled to the brim with anxiety. You called me a disappointment. Since I did not have a voice then, I took pen and paper. I have finally found my voice. I am not ungrateful, aggressive, inconsiderate, bone-idle, cantankerous, or a piece of trash. In fact I am far from any of those words. I am bright, creative, determined, friendly, independent, and reliable. But best of all, I am not a disappointment. I am Megan.