Most of what I wrote here is from two
or three years ago
Two years ago when I was the girl
who dripped anxiety like a leaky faucet
And poured all the excess into her poems
like little sticky notes detailing the confusions
and little joys of life
Now,
Now I'm still a confused, anxious girl
but maybe I can fake it better?
Or maybe I really have grown
So that I no longer need the multicolored sticky notes
Dotting my life
Where I can hold it in
or let it out more constructively
Constructively?
Is poetry not constructive?
Or is it my biases again
idk idk idk
I spoke to an old friend the other day
I have a poem about them
There's another girl I never speak to
but back when I wrote about her she was my friend
I don't know where I'm going
and these poems remind me where I've been
For that matter I don't know where I am
Not enough
Not where I should be
Yet
But yet has yet to arrive and
seemingly
n
e
v
e r
will
...
I'm rambling aren't I?
Well,
The gist of it is
I am somewhere else, not where I was
Nor am I where I should be where I want to be where I ought-
I have a poem about ought don't I?
For those of you who've actually made it to this point in the poem
I applaud you
Because I don't know where I'm going
or where I am
But my poetry seems to be showing me where I've been
Stop
STOP
Enough says the me that insists everything must be productive
There's no point
There's no point!
You're not a poet,
You're just a girl who is supposedly an adult
Ha
Ha ha
What a joke
Is the self deprecation necessary?
Is it though?
Or is it simply a tool to hide my anxiety
under a blanket
Can't I just appreciate what I have? Who I am? But
I'm not good enough
not nearly good enough
The other day I wrote a sorry essay
apologizing for all my shortcomings
Don't get me wrong
I love my self You'd better too love yourself that is It's important
But I don't seem good enough
Sigh
Yes, I verbally said the word sigh
I'm still rambling, aren't I?
Because I don't know where I'm going
nor where I am
But I do now know where I've been
and I suppose it's just a matter of moving from there
I may take baby steps,
like a waddling penguin
But so long as I know where I've been
I can keep on moving
so that I can grow
One day my wings will open huge and wide
One day
One day I will no longer be that anxious little girl
One day
Why not today?
Because today's not that day
But, one
day
It'll happen
and if it doesn't...
I guess I'll still be chasing that one day
Because I don't know where I'm going
or even where I am
But I do know where I've been because I write about it in little sticky notes called poems