See,
I am made of sunrises
blotches of color painted by weary hands.

I am made of stars
picked straight from the sky by tiny fingertips
reaching for something more.

I am made of laughter and tears
and as my much too heavy shoulders shake
you'll wonder

what I am carrying after all.

Every now and then
I become 10 years old

I'm laying in my parents bed
melting into worn sheets and heavy blankets

I can hear my sister on the phone
she's chatting about some math test

The walls were always thin

I can hear my mother with the vacuum
and my father and brother cooking breakfast

They are toasting english muffins
and scrambling eggs

The bacon is sizzling
and the hash browns are crispy

I can smell it now as it floods my house
seeping into the hallway and into the room

The birds outside are singing
and the sunlight is golden as it carresses
my weary, aged eyes

But I am 10 right now
my shoulders have no weight to carry

And I feel as though I am one with the wind
slowly floating away from where I should be,
back towards home.

I wish I could tell you how I feel,
but all I can do is stare at this blinking cursor
and think the words instead.

I think you're really cool.
Even when you're doing nothing at all.

You laughed at the absurdity of my story, but there was something in that sound that felt like the beginning of something.

How can I miss someone I don't even know yet?

I miss my old childhood room. With its dim lights and creaky bed. Turning off the lights and opening my old macbook. The fan inside it blowing hard and much too loud for two in the morning. I miss loading up a blocky game that lagged a little too much. Calling my friends on my phone and speaking in hushed shouts. Sneaking downstairs to grab a few cookies, making sure not to step on the fourth step (that's the one that creaked) and making sure not to crinkle the cookie package too much. Returning back to my room, placing both hands on the keys and forgetting about tomorrow. Playing that game with my friends until I finally noticed the sun peaking through my blinds and the warmth returning to the room. Hanging up the phone before my parents awoke and finally climbing under the covers. I miss my old childhood room and all the memories encased in its walls.