Where I'm From

I am from vodka bottles, from Banff Ice and Smirnoff.

I am from the downtown townhouses, loud, chaotic, the smell of cigarette smoke with every breath.

I am from the crawling ivy, the creeping thistle.

I am from body dysmorphic and anxiety-ridden, from my mother and father who made me amidst a valentine’s make-up session.

I am from the avoiders and addicts lost in their own ignorant worlds.

From “you could have had it worse” and “you need to stop being so negative”.

I am from “one day you’ll find God” and “for now you’re going to Hell.”

I'm from the house on the Shuswap in Salmon Arm, nicotine, and bottom-feeder fish.

From my grandma’s friend’s unsolved murder in 1970’s East Vancouver, the white lines that now snake across her wrists.

I am from a hoard of photo albums depicting smiling faces and facades, a sinister thought behind each get together, and forcefully forgotten memories.

- V. B. B.