You think you know me?
Yes, you claim you know who I am.
Yet you do not know who I was.
I was the thief, aged seven, that nearly got away.
I was the reader, aged ten, indulging in George Orwell.
I was the match-maker, aged twelve, bonding hearts across wires.
I was the insane, aged thirteen, seeing death as a new beginning.
I was the hacker, aged fourteen, learning how to navigate Windows in Spanish.
I was the con-artist, aged fifteen, making thousands.
I was the economist, aged sixteen, dabbling in foreign exchange.
I was the romantic, aged seventeen, thinking my life was set in stone.
I was the student, aged eighteen, learning to live on my own.
And I was the lost, aged nineteen, on the brink of existence.
Now I'm the searcher, aged twenty, finding new meaning to life every day.
Looking through rose-tinted glasses.
Learning to love and be loved.
Not for who I was,
But who I am.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
You think you know me?
Yes, you claim you know who I am.
Yet you do not know who I was.
I was the thief, aged seven, that nearly got away.
I was the reader, aged ten, indulging in George Orwell.
I was the match-maker, aged twelve, bonding hearts across wires.
I was the insane, aged thirteen, seeing death as a new beginning.
I was the hacker, aged fourteen, learning how to navigate Windows in Spanish.
I was the con-artist, aged fifteen, making thousands.
I was the economist, aged sixteen, dabbling in foreign exchange.
I was the romantic, aged seventeen, thinking my life was set in stone.
I was the student, aged eighteen, learning to live on my own.
And I was the lost, aged nineteen, on the brink of existence.
Now I'm the searcher, aged twenty, finding new meaning to life every day.
Looking through rose-tinted glasses.
Learning to love and be loved.
Not for who I was,
But who I am.
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