I expected it to be gradual,
Like feel every day of my life,
Watching the sun rise then sets,
But then I become 25,
After a nap the length of my childhood.

Once upon a time I was guided to walk,
To learn in school with a teacher,
With classmates to learn with me,
So I learned better through them,
With some friends I had fun with.

I used to write so much,
A lot of thoughts with little words,
So smart, so creative, so brave,
But then I got here,
Barely spilling time to be me.

Why do I feel so empty,
When I have a life so full.
A love strong to waive my mistakes,
A home to keep other worries out,
And a job to do that pays well.

I travel and dive to the oceans,
I drive to the far high roads,
I fly to more islands,
But then I go home and think,
Why am I still sad?

Maybe this is growing,
The uncomfortable phase of consciousness,
When you think more of the things to do,
Than just doing it,
Always with fear of getting it wrong.

Because for the first time ever,
You are alone and fully responsible,
For your whole being,
And it is scary,
Growing up is scary.

The days come and go,
so does my shadow
with night and day,

I've grown, grown big
to want a husband and children,

without the sun's warm embrace,
I've followed life,
living with principle
and my words, to their abode;

I'm a woman now,
my mother's hands smaller than mine,

I'm a woman,
the mirror paints her beautiful,

The days are long gone,
those days I miss and my head
can't twist back enough to recall them,

This, this is sadness.

My sanity is gone
tired of being the pawn
it's only bones on the lawn
with spite in each bone
it's alter ego is all alone
my insanity is grown

The drops are so much deeper,
and the highs aren't high at all.
Ongoing expectant measures listed,
of these persistent calls to pressure.
To fill a frame that's drained,
when switching off is no longer an option.
Are these real problems or signs of age?

Before was easier, yesterday simpler,
but would the early days help to mould,
when you've already grown from there.
Late observations of missed play,
a rug pull calls out the fool to vacate.
As we're a little bitter in vain,
there's no sweetness today.

We've all imagined
Wedding dresses and vails
growing up
losing our pig-tails and overalls
trading them in for
beach waves and crop tops
only for the person in our
Reflection
to turn into a complete
s t r a n g e r

staring blank faced at a girl you can't recognize anymore
drawing imaginary lines on our bodies with our eyes
cutting away the imperfections with
our hands shaped as
scissors,

wishing
we could look like
the models in the magazines
or
the actresses on the tv screens
But, society tells us
we can Never be
Skinny
enough
Never be
Pretty
enough
That our features will
NEVER
be
Good
e n o u g h

Because the girl in the mirror who has lost all hope
can Never amount to
what we have been taught from the time we could
walk and talk
what beautiful is;

We went from carefree children
to teens who are
depressed and anxious
all the time
most of us addicted to Nicotine and Alcohol
our parents tell us to smile and quit with the attitudes
but behind closed doors we criticize ourselves
enough

The little girl in her pigtails
playing with everyone on the playground
so innocent
so pure
get labeled as a racist
in the 6th grade because her skin is white

By the time she enters high school
she knows better than to state an opinion,
the teachers know Best,
never stand up to a man,
he's superior to you,
even when behind the closed doors
he touches you when you say STOP
but you know better than to say something
cause you had to have wanted it,
take it as a compliment,
it just means you're pretty

if you say anything you'll be labeled as a
W h o r e
if you keep quiet it's an invitation for
M o r e

people asking
"why do you flinch at a simple touch?"
how do you explain years of torment to a complete
s t r a n g e r,
you don't, you smile and act dumb

pretty is a vocabulary word to describe anyone
but the girl that is seen in the mirror
because she is
Not
Good
e n o u g h
and she knows that

she has lost friends cause she can't trust them

she changes her style monthly

trying sooo hard just to be
accepted
she doesn't remember
the little girl in pigtails,
she doesn't remember
what a real smile looks like,
the pain behind her eyes
c l o u d s
her reality
the voice in her head telling her
"you're eating too much"
"you're an idiot"
"you'll never amount to anything"
and she
s     l     o     w     l    y
fades away
til there is nothing left
to put back together
cause her mind and heart are
s c   a   t t e  r e     d
aimlessly
shes numb and she
thinks, this is what happiness feels like
no more pain
no more criticizing
No, more
pretending to be okay

are something that I have learned to hide.
Seen as a weakness to my parents, seen as too sensitive.
Grow up, you aren't a baby anymore.
Stop crying, you have everything.

Bottled up inside me I learned to control them.
I learned to ignore them
every time they threatened to burst.
Tears are a luxury we all take for granted.

I've grown to accept this part of me,
grown to accept that tears aren't the enemy.
A part of me will always whisper to myself,
grow up, stop being a baby.

But in the end, we all shed some tears.

Her constellations move differently

She no longer controls star systems

Only one remaining cluster
now orbits her

But it is more than enough

For they need and love her as their light-giving empyrean