It starts small.
It always the first step you take up the stairs.
And the kid sitting on the guide rail, the little girl says it-
¨What am I doing wrong?¨
The winding staircase stares you down saying,
¨C'mon just a little farther¨
And you're young and you're stupid, so you do.
Then it isn't just one kid, it's 20, 30, 50-
And theyŕe all saying different things.
And they're all begging you to turn back.
But you're young and stupid so you keep going
This time she's in middle school
And she’s talking to the air, and every word hurts
She lies like a rug
She self pities, and walks towards highways, and writes goodbyes on notebook paper
And you keep walking
You don't even know what's at the top of the tower- but you keep going anyways.
Suddenly she's older. Smarter. Quieter.
Every word still hurts, but she´ll trust anyone with a smile.
And then she's crying, and venting her frustrations
And the kid is pulling her sleeve and screaming and she is too
The girl is alone again.
She looks in door after door. Some just lead to brick walls.
She opens one and smiles, and disappears inside it.
You keep going.
Now she walks up with a shadow.
Another shadow comes to her side, and holds her hand.
The first shadow turns and says something to the girl.
The girl starts breaking.
Now she’s reaching, crying, desperate, drowning.
The shadow disappears.
You step up to her. Shes holding a bottle, and she’s had enough.
The highway becomes the bottle, and shes a blindfolded pedestrian.
¨We have to keep going.¨
The shadow isn´t just one but several.
¨You have to keep going.¨

Once, in seventh grade,
I took a class in a portable
that had a bathroom built in.

I sat behind a girl
with brown hair
that always smelled like dryer sheets.

When she would write,
her shoulder blades would
glide under her cardigan

as if the wind of grace
was making waves
on the skin of her back.

When she stood up
her eyes moves to mine--
the only mobile dots on a freckled complexion.

She walked behind me
into the bathroom
and I listened to her ****
while the teacher explained
that X isn't always greater than Y.

a tear drops from her eyes
and it brings no cause
though it quivers with emotion

and the stars do not shine brighter
when polished with her briny tears
but dim their glow and listen
listen!
to her sobbing
but wait
her capillaries will burst!
stop it!
stop it!

its translucence
its opaqueness
the inherent contradictions it produces
and the images it emanates

so while her eyes may open
they are unfocused
and gone
and the click of their judgements is obscene
because her soul has escaped

where has it gone?
she swears she saw it just a moment ago
just a moment
just a moment
just a moment

chirrup,

youth of the spring,

come sensitive pores and

sensible glands and senseless fun,

cheerup.

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.