Whenever I refused to eat dinner or talk to you,
You asked, “Are you depressed or something?”
Whenever I stayed in my room for hours,
You asked, “Oh, is it that time of the month?”
…….
It infuriated me that you asked me these questions so carelessly,
And you never really cared how I felt by asking me these questions.
Heck, they were never questions to begin with, they were assumptions.
You never knew that I cried myself to sleep every night,
Nor that I struggled with my insecurities so badly I had stopped eating.
You never noticed because you were too busy calling me emo when I wore dark black hoodies to cover my scars.
You were too busy to even care about my problems, while ranting your problems out loud to anyone who would listen.
But what hurt the most is that you only referred to my problems as a “Teenage phase.”