6 year old me knows better than me now,
She told me how;
The future heaven is,
Singing in the rain is paradise.
SPIRIT and HEART
to go THE DISTANCE so...
People try to change you.
Take the PROS and
Live your LIFE
enjoy it 'till the day you
I guess it was easier then...
"Mom, why do you put that hot sauce on everything"?
"Because I like the flavor that it gives to most of my food."
"Do you want to try a little bit"?
(spit) " yukkk, it's too spicy and hot!"
"I know" (laughing)
"Do we have any cold sauce"?
i bet your pretty disgusted with me right now.
i never thought i'd be getting drunk
or even high.
but it's just what happens when the first heartbreak happens.
or your first party
your first suicidal thought
i'm writing to say i'm sorry for disappointing you
i'm sorry i went down the path you wouldve never picked
i'm sorry for growing up so sick and twisted.
because i wish i stayed six and innocent
I'm still that 6 year old curious little kid
I'm still that 6 year old Asian looking short hair hyper little kid
I'm still that 6 year old confused about why people act the way they do little kid
I'm still that 6 year old opinionated little kid
I'm still that 6 year old innocent kid that knows a bit more than they should
I'm still a fragile 6 year old
I'm still that ...
So why do you treat me like I'm an adult ?
An optimistic 6 year old girl with the whole world in front of her.
A crying 8 year old wishing her parents would hug her.
A damaged nine-year-old hoping for a bedtime story.
A changed 11 year old learning that it'll never be okay.
A broken 13 year old looking for an exit.
An angry 15 year old with a bag packed at her side.
A bitter 16 year old lost past the point of return.
A determined 18 year old ready to fly.
A recovering 19 year old seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.
A strong 21 year old seeing the whole world for the first time.
I would have told my 5 year old self,
Don't cut your hair behind the couch.
I would have told my 6 year old self,
She becomes really annoying.
I would have told my 7 year old self,
Stop trying to please everyone.
I would have told my 8 year old self,
No, don't be friends with him. He'll hurt you.
I would have told my 9 year old self,
Please please don't get your hair cut.
I would have told my 10 year old self,
That girl is a backstabber.
I would have told my 11 year old self,
Cheating in school isn't cool.
I would have told my 12 year old self,
Men are so gross, just be friends for now.
I would have told my 13 year old self,
Being a teen isn't fun. Don't get your hopes up.
I would have told my 14 year old self,
Seriously, cheating in school sucks.
I would have told my 15 year old self,
HE IS A JERK OKAY? NO. JUST NO.
I would have told my 16 year old self,
What are you doing with yourself? Think about it.
I would have told my 17 year old self,
It'll be over soon. I promise.
And I tell myself now,
It's okay to cry sometimes.
I was once told to edit the world. I grabbed my colored pencils, my childish ideals thinking I could simply, go over the imperfections left by my predecessors. Soon I would come to realize, life is no etchy-sketch. I could shake the world, twist, mold into anything I wanted. It’s still fucked up. I’m still trying to color the problems. I shade the unwanted, masking it over so I can pretend it’s gone. My day dreams continue further as I sketched over past memories, just want to edit the world. But, colored pencils become daggers when in the right hands. I’ve leaped into this idea with no plan, Standard american wisdom. Act first, question later. my first action should have been to ask, is the world a canvas? Maybe it’s a kindergarden sandbox, 5 year old fists and 6 year olds toes smash and pound through. Maybe it’s a thunderstorm because, I was told life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. All I’ve seen is dark clouds and lighting. Maybe the world is me. Poetic angst without fail, too much energy to use, to many words spoken at a rapid pace. Maybe the world is you, you, or you. It’s not just its own story, it’s a combination of auto-biographies still being written. Maybe... Just maybe, we are all editors. The world is constantly being edited, no single person should aim to do it themselves. Our world is force, a group, a team, a family taking the pens from our mothers and fathers, writing our chapters into the guide on how to edit. Sooner rather than later, we’ll pass our pens down to those who will write the chapters we never get to see. Hopefully, 5 year old fists and 6 year old toes become 20 year old champions and 30 year old heroes. We can share our stories, filled with the people we’ll never forget, and the nights, we can’t seem to remember. In the end, editing the world will never finished, it can be forgotten. We hope shedding sun rays on a rainy day, might convince our successors to never forget. Sadly, We can only hope they wish to edit.