Aug 2013
When I was little.
When I was little.
WHEN I was little.
When did that "I am" become a "When I".
I've lived my whole life,
I've never stopped,
I went straight from one to two,
two to three,
three to four,
no pause,
no breaks,
straight on through to the tender age of 19.
I went from
barbie dolls to polly pockets,
bratz dolls to bicycles,
ipods to computers,
computers to cars,
cars to cigarettes,
cigarettes to alcohol.
When did it happen?
When did the little girl become,
a teenager,
a teenager struggling with herself,
with her life,
trying to decide how she wants to spend the rest of it.
I want to go back to first grade,
sitting up in my bunk bed crying because I couldn't read yet,
to classroom parties,
recess,
staying up late the night before 5th grade practicing my long division because I was afraid of my new teacher.
I don't stay up late worrying about my long division anymore.
I stay up late worrying about the state our world is in.
Scared to death that I'm going to give in to society.
I can't bear the thought that the little girl I see in all of my old pictures,
with all the hope in her eyes,
grows into a tired adult,
faking a smile because she forgot how not to.
Going through the same routine.
If I could go back to a younger me,
I would give her ear plugs.
So she wouldn't be able to hear the boy in her class tell everyone Santa Clause isn't real.
So she could block out the insults thrown her way because being 90 pounds in 4th grade was WAY to fat.
So she could muffle out the reality,
and live in her own world for awhile.
I'm living this life not entirely proud of who I am,
or the choices I make,
but I want to make sure of one thing.
If I ever run into my younger self one day in another reality,
I want to make sure I've made her proud.
Because being a kid is hard,
but so is being an adult.
Life is difficult,
and the truth is harsh.
Because when one turns into two,
two turns into 19,
19 turns into 45,
45 turns into 70,
and 70 turns into a headstone.
And at that point,
we've got to hope we did it right.
When I was little.
WHEN I was little.
When did that "I am" become a "When I".
I've lived my whole life,
I've never stopped,
I went straight from one to two,
two to three,
three to four,
no pause,
no breaks,
straight on through to the tender age of 19.
I went from
barbie dolls to polly pockets,
bratz dolls to bicycles,
ipods to computers,
computers to cars,
cars to cigarettes,
cigarettes to alcohol.
When did it happen?
When did the little girl become,
a teenager,
a teenager struggling with herself,
with her life,
trying to decide how she wants to spend the rest of it.
I want to go back to first grade,
sitting up in my bunk bed crying because I couldn't read yet,
to classroom parties,
recess,
staying up late the night before 5th grade practicing my long division because I was afraid of my new teacher.
I don't stay up late worrying about my long division anymore.
I stay up late worrying about the state our world is in.
Scared to death that I'm going to give in to society.
I can't bear the thought that the little girl I see in all of my old pictures,
with all the hope in her eyes,
grows into a tired adult,
faking a smile because she forgot how not to.
Going through the same routine.
If I could go back to a younger me,
I would give her ear plugs.
So she wouldn't be able to hear the boy in her class tell everyone Santa Clause isn't real.
So she could block out the insults thrown her way because being 90 pounds in 4th grade was WAY to fat.
So she could muffle out the reality,
and live in her own world for awhile.
I'm living this life not entirely proud of who I am,
or the choices I make,
but I want to make sure of one thing.
If I ever run into my younger self one day in another reality,
I want to make sure I've made her proud.
Because being a kid is hard,
but so is being an adult.
Life is difficult,
and the truth is harsh.
Because when one turns into two,
two turns into 19,
19 turns into 45,
45 turns into 70,
and 70 turns into a headstone.
And at that point,
we've got to hope we did it right.
