I spent a lot of time in my life wondering why I wasn’t more like them less like me and more like those people who are just noticed when they walk in a room the ones you know are coming because you can hear them before they enter I wondered why I wasn’t louder more personal more likeable, like them why didn’t I have that way of greeting people and pulling them in as if I really couldn’t wait to hear about their weekend like they did I worried there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want to be in the crowd, I didn’t want to follow the leader or be picked for the team I felt like I was flawed because I didn’t seem to think like them, act like them or look like them I couldn’t keep up or stay in line or listen to the rules as easily where others fell in place, I always felt like stepping out It turns out of course, that the answer is we are all human and my humanness wasn’t meant to be exactly like anyone else’s and that’s okay I just hadn’t found the ones who understand yet what it’s like to be a person shoved inside of a human
English is a medicine, not a pathogen. English is safety, not war. English is kindness, not viciousness. English is a trust, not a trap. English is a gift, not a robbery. English is freedom, not detention. English is a poem, not a verdict. English is a reward, not a punishment. English is a fairytale, not a calamity. English is forgiveness, not accusation. English is honesty, not manipulation; keep it close so it will fly mountains for you, and so I am.
whatever i touch turns into tragedy— Midas wishes his hands were made of mine.
i dare not touch trees and their leaves— their old age will not matter once i graze their skin.
i do wonder if everything good that comes are worthy of my ruin— they quickly turn sour and ugly once they, finally, rest their heads on my lap and i am left here, once again, picking up the scraps, telling myself nothing incredibly, or inherently, bad has happened yet.
but what if it comes?
what if the world decides to put the blame on me and punish me for simply being alive?