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.
About the Creator
V. B. B
I'm a pessimistic amateur poet and writer that has had a few violent and dark things published. Also, I love to make lists of my favourite movies, t.v. shows, books, and music.
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