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Katelynn Mar 2
I am eighteen years old.
That doesn't seem like a lot,
But to me,
It is everything.

Eighteen years is all I've ever known.
Even if I died tomorrow,
Still eighteen.
While that might not seem like much to you.
You are probably not eighteen.

Despite my age,
I have been through a lot.
Some say more than most,
Even then those who are older.

At eight years old I lost my dad.
At eleven years old I lost my mom.
At eighteen years old,
I've learned to be okay with that.

Between eleven and thirteen I was abused.
I eventually escaped and was safe again.
At eighteen years old I am still in fear of this sometimes,
But I am working on that.

At seventeen years old I applied for college.
I was accepted and excited to go.
At eighteen years old I dropped out.
All of the anxiety and illnesses became too much,
But I am working on that.

For eighteen years I've dealt with mental illness.
Currently being called Bipolar,
Manic and depressive episodes are common,
But I am working on that.

In the past eighteen years,
I've learned new things.
I've learned who to trust,
And who to believe.
However,
I am still working on the difference between them.

In eighteen years I've learned to let go.
Toxic or not.
Family or not.
Just letting grudges be free.
I'm still working on that.

In eighteen years I've learned skills.
With the musicals I've been in.
With my writing continuing.
Even better at communicating now.

But yet I am eighteen.
With time hopefully left,
Leaving room to gain new experiences,
Because eighteen isn't a lot.

But I do thank eighteen.
For all that it has taught me.
From being confident,
To being reassured,
And everything in between.

Because I am almost nineteen.
And nineteen is a lot.
This poem is about despite being eighteen I have been through a lot but knowing it is only getting started and I can't wait to see what nineteen has in store soon.
Katelynn Jan 23
Sometimes when people describe mental illness,
not all can see,
how ignorance is bliss,
how some live carefree.

"Oh well you are sad"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from a feeling of blue,
to a weight smothering Depression.

"Oh you can't focus"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from hyper and happy,
to a confused, controlling ADHD.

"Oh you are just worried"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from caring too much,
to an intense panic and fear of Anxiety.

"Oh well you are just moody"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from just being tired or hangry,
to an uncontrollable scream called Bipolar.

It could be the voices of Schizophrenia,
of the vomiting of Bulimia,
but you would not see,
how hard we try to flee.

You are blessed to be healthy,
never fearing your mind,
or how you could be so blind,
to us walking a fine line.

But don't get me wrong,
I am wishing you well,
because I know how,
you would never want hell.

So I applaud your ability,
your ignorance so bliss,
of all you will miss,
ignoring all of this.

So until you learn,
or at least understand,
we are not so bland,
while you live a life so grand.
People with healthy minds and those with mental illnesses tend to live a whole different life from one another.
Katelynn Jan 2
You ask if I love you?
I simply reply I don’t know.
How could one really know,
I’d love truly lies where lust hides.

Do I love you,
When you hold me tight,
When our lips touch,
Or when our bodies connect.

Do I love you,
When I sneak glances,
When I listen intently,
Or when I feel that I can’t get enough.

But when we are together,
My heart flutters,
My hands shake,
I feel tingly.
I feel special.

But you ask my if I love you,
I still can’t respond.
Is it me being with you?
Or being apart of you?

When the heat rushes,
When my legs shake,
**** I know I’ll be sore in the morning,
But that isn’t love.

Love shouldn’t be afraid.
Love shouldn’t be hidden.
It’s shouldn’t be shameful,
Or questioned.

But I guess it doesn’t matter either way.

Because you never asked me if I loved you in the first place.
Going through life I have never experience my chance at having my first love yet. I wrote this poem when I was finally with someone for the first time believing that I could love them and they everything would be okay. It didn’t work out but having these questions in this poem was a real eye opener for me into discovering what I really needed. And it wasn’t him.
Katelynn Mar 2019
If I could write to the past
Of all that has happened
Of all of what I went through
Of how everything happened so fast

So this to you
To the younger me
To the innocence
That no longer consumes me

Dear younger me
Of all the things I want to tell you
Words can not explain enough
Of what actually happened

Dear younger me
Would I tell how you will go through so much
So much pain
So much heartache
But you will come out so much stronger

Dear younger me
Would I think to tell you the truth
Of all those you will lose
Those who you thought would be there
But now are left confused


Dear younger me
Would I tell you of the places you will travel
Some creating your best memories
Or how others will still leave you up at night

Dear younger me
Oh how I want to protect you
To keep you shielded
From the dark

Dear younger me
Oh how I want to warn you
Of the dangers that lurk
Even in the most trusting smile

Dear younger me
With how much I would give
To be back in your shoes
Even just for a moment

But if even given a moment
I would change nothing

Dear younger me
You will go through hell and back
You will cry some nights until you fall asleep
You will witness things you wish you had never witness
You will try to die at your lowest moments at the age of 13

But do not be frighten

Dear younger me
While you are going through so much
While you feel left in the dark
That you have hit rock bottom
You will rise
Stronger than you have before

Dear younger me
While our life is not over yet
You will meet amazing people
Those who love you
When others wouldn’t

Dear younger me
You will see amazing things
Color brighter than you have before
You will feel peace at times

Dear younger me
Things are never perfect
But you will make it
You are better than you once imagined

Dear younger me
For all the things you wished you were told
For all the things you wished you had done
Even now
I wouldn’t change them for a younger me
Here lately i've been thinking about my past, which is never a good thing. I was givin the insperation for this poem by the song Dear Younger Me by MercyMe. Listening to that song over and over again made me think what would I say if I could write to myself ten years ago. 7 year old me. An innocent child who had no idea what challeges that would be thrown at her. But I grew stronger, and those tough challenges and decisions made me who I am today.
Katelynn Jan 2019
Why do I write? Well technically I’m not actually writing, I’m typing. Anyhow I write for many different reasons. I write to share ideas, to change perspective, but I mainly write for myself. I write for myself because writing(typing) helps me understand myself. I know it sounds crazy sometimes but when I am for once able to put meaning into my words I am able to understand parts of myself better. Some people don’t understand. How could someone possibly not understand themselves? It’s reasonable to understand that. I always know what I am feeling most of the time. However trying to take my feelings and put them into words tends to be a struggle for me. Like I can’t find the right words in the proper order to try and explain myself. Sometimes things don’t need explaining. That’s is why I write poetry. In poetry things don’t need to make since, unlike all the college essays that I have to write that scream about grammar and punctuation. Poetry is just a feeling by itself. Letting the rhythm of the words just flow. It doesn’t always make sense but that isn’t the point. The point is does it have meaning? When someone reads poetry do the feel something deep within or are they just zoning out and reading just to read. Reading poetry is like playing a melody in your head. You can hear all the different notes, when they stop, and when they go. You can create a symphony of words with the letters being your orchestra. Some may criticize, they always will, and try to make it seem that your work is less important that it is. But it isn’t. What makes your work important is the feeling that you get from it when you finish. That feeling of relief when you finally let everything bottled up inside you go, or the tears that spill because the damage that was made and the only way to heal is letting out all of these words in your head go. When writing there are no limits, no criteria. It’s just you and your brain piecing together parts of yourself you hadn’t realized that was there before.

And that is why I write.
This is just what I call a word ***** that I had once day, and I just wanted to write. These words are unedited and I didn't allow myself to backspace on any of it. So they may be some spelling errors and there are definitely some grammer erros. This is just pure words, typing as I am thinking. Truely my definition of a word *****.
Katelynn Jan 2019
Sometimes when people see her,
They see the good little girl,
That sits down,
That’s quite,
And does what she is told.

The girl that doesn’t want trouble,
That’ll snitch at the sound of danger.
The girl that does all of her work on time,
That fears anything below an A.

Sometimes when people see her,
They see the loud girl,
That doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut,
Whether she’s talking to her friends,
Or when she’s firing off a sarcastic remark.

The girl that’ll throw words,
If you dare dis her family.
The girl that’ll catch hands,
If you dare push her.

They do not like this loud girl,
She should stay quite,
Know her place,
Fall in line.

But they do not like the good girl either,
She should open up,
Let loose for once,
Stand on her own two feet.

People seem to always decide,
What this girl should be.
Not the girl herself,
To show what she believes.

But it is like this with every girl.
They are all either:
Too tall,
Too short,
Too skinny,
Too fat.

These girls face constant battle,
On what they should,
And should not do.
But no one ever asks what the girls might think.

Instead the girls will live,
With these rules forced to swallow.

But soon the girls will rise,
And everyone will soon follow.
In society many girls are pressed in ideas by others on what and who they should be. People today do not like good little girls because they are considered prudes and ingnorant. However people do not like the loud girls because they're b-words and obnoxious. There are toxic images for boys too, not just girls. Overall I believe that there will be a day where the old sterotypical toxic images will come to an end, for both girls and boys.
Katelynn Dec 2018
You made me choose,
A choice that wasn’t fair,
One that is hard to bare,
But you didn’t care.

We were best friends,
Funny how things end.
How being thick as thieves,
Until one got caught.

You made me choose,
Made me question my faith,
In our friendship,
In my spiritual relationship.

For once I had cried,
confused on what to do,
Wanting to listen to them,
Only to tell of corruption.

When I gave you my answer,
You may have been stunned,
You may have been confused,
But I didn’t stay around.

When my faith is tested,
In what I believe is true,
I surround myself in love,
From one who is untested.

But I will not be bitter,
And I will wish you farewell.
But I know that those who love me,
Would not have me dwell.

Maybe I have been corrupted,
But only by one who loves me so.
Because I know when time ends,
He’ll be the one calling me home.

And I will choose him over you anyday.
Not that long ago someone who I thought was a dear friend of mine made me choose between my religion and them. Being told by a couple of people that I was corrupted, and that I had changed for the worse. I had to learn that these people were not my friends because I for a fact know I have changed for the better. And I will gladly choose God over them anyday of the week, because I know only true love comes  from him.
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