You do not have me in the palm of your hand because I do not fit in the palm of your hand. It seems in the time it took you to blink, I've grown up and now I do not fit in your head or your life or your schedule, much less your hands. Your palms are bigger but my fingers are longer, maybe that's why I am clinging on more than you. But palms and fingers are not as good as knuckles in wiping away the salty leakages of eyes. Yours are calloused from boxing, which you have tried for forever to get me to do but I am simply not interested in violence for exercise I would rather run away, and mine are too soft, removable body scrub. They've been soaked for too long in a 100% organic saline solution.
Remind me why you call me your little girl, or an angel. Sometimes it feels like you're mocking me, because there is nothing about this presence of mine that is little. I speak too much and go too far and I simply occupy too much space. All this excess if my fault, I'm sure my bones are tiny gorgeous little things and I have sinned against them buy burying them in adipose tissue. Sometimes it feels like you're warning me. Or prompting me. Would I still be your angel, if I was dead? Would I be any angel at all? Not only an atheist I am also forgetful. What if I forget the Young Women's pledge and promise? Where can I go without Faith, Divine Nature, Individual Worth, Knowledge, Choice and Accountability, Good Works, Integrity and Virtue? Who cares I'm lost either way, dead or alive, in the Inbetween. What if I forget how to breathe, what do you think that would count as? A mistake or a suicide? Only I'd know the truth. Despite the connections we've had and our shared genetic material, you ill never know and I hope that doesn't bother you.
I'm not angry. I love you. I just wish clocks went backwards occasionally so I could go back to the end of highschool where I lost all my friends but I had my father to pick me up every day after school and I lost 1/3 of my body weight in 4 months and I also lost my mind but I had someone to talk to and take me to the beach on days I was too sad to go to school, much less get out of bed. I miss you terribly, even though I see you every week. I wish you had left a substitute, anyone I could talk to. Right now my head is muffled because there is no more space for the thoughts to bounce around and I do not like this feeling at all. My skull can only stand so much pressure, all rocks crack, even mountains can shake from too much and that is what I am suffering from: an acute case of too much and there is no one else with hands big enough to catch what spills over.