these days
i am constantly reminded
of how much i need to remember
where i came from...
where i've been.

i went back through all these old pictures of me
when my face was round
and chubby
when my hair wasn't perfectly straight
my bangs a mess...
before the idea
that i needed to be
******
entered my mind.
and i remembered my background
the importance of the foundation
that i rest on...
i sit and remember
what made me
me.

i'll look at my life like this long line
that sometimes goes haywire on me
sometimes it comes
to the edge of a cliff
plummets downward
and then climbs back up
i'll think about holding little kids
and being friends with different people
and being so
innocent
so untouched
(i didn't think so then)
by the complete horror
this world truly
is

i will sit in this room
that i have never had the heart
to call 'mine'
it is small
with one window near the floor
messy
with three white walls
and one chocolate colored
in a house
we don't own
in a town
i always wanted to live in
just not like this
and i'll picture
the girl that lived in that crazy
falling down yellow house
with the green roof
and the rusty door
and the green fields
in the brilliant,
royal purple
room
with all the funny hair things
and colorful tights
and big
big
smiles
that say nothing
that resembles
'**** me'
and i'll think....
how
the
hell
did i get here
from
there