It’s a curious pat on the head
It’s not being bad for a black girl at the age of fifteen
It’s the wrong shade of foundation
It’s trivial
It’s being too scared to call them out, disappearing and saying you left because you were bored
It’s entering the queue for pizza at the end of a night out in Budapest four times because the first three times you were ignored
It’s where you’re really from
Really
It’s just a question

I am made from

the perseverance and kindness of my mother,

and the knowledge and patience from my father.

My mind tangled with

overwhelming emotions that I try too hard to suppress,

and memories that light up my eyes with wonder

filling my stomach with warmth and purpose.

Experiences that shaped a heart of empathy

having been far down in the pit of despair

once strangers that are no longer, helped me find clarity.

Chapped lips and a quick tongue

I fear to say something too fast,

without a second thought

having unintentionally stung.

Inside are taped up cracks and stitched holes

knowing all too well I could have helped myself

out of a toxic relationship by just taking control.

Inside are bones and bad blood circulation

all the caffeine, drugs and nicotine consumption

coping mechanisms acquired over the years for a fix,

a pleasurable sensation

to balance out the losses, betrayals, deaths, and depression.

Passions, soul, and substances all churning and rumbling mixed about

I used to be good at self-sabotaging

now I’m trying to pace myself so I don’t get worn out.

I am made from

every kind encounter I’ve had with a selfless stranger,

laughter from my friends and lovers

sounds of sweet nothings but the wind in nature.

My ears filled with

the first time you told me you loved me

and the voices that allowed me to overcome tragedy

songs that carried me away in bliss

with only a simple tone or melody.

My eyes deep and dark like the color of soil after the rain falls

squinting through thick glasses trying to see clearly past life’s pitfalls.

I’m constantly inspired by the world around me

Always wanting to try it myself so I can experience it all.

Jack of all trades, but a master at none.

I feel like there so much to learn and so much to see

it’s hard to pick just one thing to be.

I can barely even attempt to fathom

what else life has in store for me.

if we would've met at 16 our lives as teenagers would've been worlds different. we'd meet in the parking lot after school and we'd drive for a little, then hotbox in front of the pacific ocean. i'd play you all the stuff that i played on my weekly radio show and i'd ***** to you about how i was done with the world and every single lululemon wearing, frozen mocha drinking girl who thought i was inferior to her because i wasn't conventionally pretty, listened to anti-establishment punk rock of the 1970s and refused to straighten my hair even if my curls wouldn't quit that day.
i didn't know you four years ago. you were the exact opposite of me, and honestly you probably would have avoided me  - you put gel in your hair and you played sports, but you seemed like you might've been angry and sad for no apparent reason too. you were the same as you are now in some ways, you had the 24/7 off-duty model thing, you were smart, you bumped old school tunes, you knew old school sitcoms. i would've 100% been in love with you but i never would have done anything about it. all i wanted was someone that i could tell everything to, but nobody cared. knowing you could have eased the pain of the period of time in my life where i spent all my money on dime bags and twelve dollar packs of cigarettes and stability was the last thing on my mind and all i really wanted to do was dig a grave for myself. you probably would have never talked to me, but we would have been the coolest kids in the parking lot.
and can i tell you like, the cheesiest sounding thing in the world? yeah? okay. i can't wait to run into you on a beach on the north shore of kauai in 50 years. "shawshank redemption" style. i hope we're friends forever.

I'm grinding
and the dirt
I'm grinding
and the dirt
I'm grinding
and the dirt


And I don't
understand?

I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

please help me,


"The clawed hand is not for shaking,
although it has amazing grip." -zₑᵤₛ



"Eat a pork shoulder
dusted in granite powder...
dash of cumen, a salty pinch
you'll get over it." -ᴾᵉˡᵒᵖˢ

                                                  

    ­                                              "He is a porky one isn't she?" -ᴱʳᶦˢ




Betty, uh, Ms. Page,
didn't it bother you?

"Bother me?"

Well you know,
being a person of God,
-doing those things for money?

"Silly, I do what I do
BECAUSE I AM a believer!" -ᴮᵉᵗᵗʸ ᴾᵃᵍᵉ

Today I saw a girl
She was walking
On a residential street
She looked out of place
But I knew her face
It’s a small town
So, of course, I knew her face
Of course, I know her name
She’s the Jones girl

She’s a teenager
I don’t know what she was doing
Probably doing whatever it is
Teenagers do
On a Sunday afternoon
In a small town

Platinum white hair
Piercings up her ear
Future up in the air
Scene and emo wristbands
And a graphic tee
Probably not from Hot Topic
Because Hot Topic ain’t so hot here

Here’s the thing
She’d be the It Girl
If it weren’t for her acne
If it weren’t for her height
If it weren’t for her weight
If it weren’t for her interests
If it weren’t for her hobbies
If it weren’t for everything about her
But her name
And her age

She deserves better
I don’t like her
Not personally
But she does deserve better
She deserves the city streets
There, and only there,
Can she can be who she wants to be

And if she can’t?
Then there’s no place I want to be
Not one at all
Because I want to be
Where she,
Where we all can be,
Who we want to be

adolescence

it is the time
where we try
to find ourselves
a time
where we break the rules
or maybe just bend em'
a time where love is found
a time where hearts are broken
a time of freedom
and no one can stop us

i'm getting ahead of myself and i feel nostalgic about everything already. i swear i was just thirteen yesterday. then i fell in love and i broke my own heart and fell in love again, got caught in the end. all of it just yesterday. some of it just feels like a dream.

and i woke up like this, almost eighteen. with a belly full of worries, a heart tripping on hope, and ribcage heaving with sighs. but still we persist. no matter that i hold my head in my hands or hide behind my hair a lot of the time. no matter that i am becoming afraid to speak. no matter that i think i want to cry all the time. and i don't even try to tell anyone anymore.

but just yesterday i was a kid and i'd never truly known what afraid meant. i never used the words heavy, burden, weight. now they're always on the tip of my tongue when i taste the air and try to gauge how i'm feeling. i open my clenched fists and think, pain.

what did i do? what changed yesterday? i remember at one point i learned to take a blade to my skin. at one point i learned to change my face. i learned to stop eating. i remember making so many promises. that if lord would grant me this, i would be glad. that's it, i would say. i would not ask for more. i would not need anything else. i think maybe i never needed more in the first place.

what have i done? if i could go back, what would it take to save myself? did i ask for the wrong things? had i worded my prayers differently, would i be someone else? what is this story? could i be doomed before i even begin? i don't miss who i was yesterday.  yesterday, she wanted to be who i am today. i don't like who i am today. i don't know if that will change when i wake up tomorrow, or in a few years.

maybe everything will be much the same but i won't know my heart again. i'll be wondering what was on my mind then. and it's just this: i am scared, cold, alone, and sorry for the choices i have made which led us to this place. i think i am weaker now than i have ever been, and it makes me ashamed.