I’m still me.
I still eat and drink and breathe
And walk and talk and skip
And sometimes I try to dance even though everyone knows I’m *******.
I still cry when I watch certain TV shows
And laugh when I watch Titanic
Because of the one guy that goes spinning when he falls of the top.
I still hate tea – because it smells weird and it’s leaves –
And I’ll always be a caffeine addict.
I still sing obnoxiously loud in the shower
And spend evenings strumming away on my guitar
Even though I’m not that good.
I still write free-verse poetry
Because I could never get the hang of rhyming
And sticking to patterns.
I still like to say ‘**** the system!’ and ‘***** society!’
In moments when, really, those words don’t apply,
Because I still like to think I’m a rebel.
I still get scared of going to university
And moving out, and getting a job.
Of having to pay bills and shop for myself
And all those adult things that I don’t quite know how to do yet.
I still think and feel the same as I used to
And I’m the same on the inside.
The only thing that’s changed is
My view of my identity,
The clarity by which I see myself
And the way I let others see me.
I’m still me,
And I always will be.