As I read through my old journal,
I realized what I have overcome,
How much I've learned,
And I remembered why I used to hate reading and writing.
Dyslexia has always been a pain for me.
I couldn't really read until I was in 3rd grade.
I could read,
But its because I saw words like pictures.
I knew what they were,
But I never gave them any real thought.
I would read,
"The cat is brown."
And my teacher would ask,
"What color is the cat?"
And I would respond with,
"What cat?"
Like the lady had lost her mind.
I started my journal when I was in 5th grade.
I had practically only been reading for 2 years.

I'm grateful now,
Of how far I've came.
Before,
I couldn't spell simple words.
I spelt the word remember as remeber.
The word sandwich was sandwicht for me.
Diary was dairy.
Behind was beeheind.
Even so much as the word and had its own difficulties. I spelt it as aedn.
The word sorry was missing an "R" and the word very had an extra one.
Concrete was concreaete.
A purse was a purce to me.
Every time I would write a poem,
I would write pemo and then put a number beside of it.
I wouldn't have a clay model, I would have a klayh modle.
Festival was feastaival.
Favorite was favearit.
Does was dose,
And should was suhood.

Living with this...
To say the least has been a struggle,
But I've overcame it,
And I'm proud of how far I've come.

As a child I was taught poetry
the quiet writing of feelings reflections
often in a beat with a rhyme and a few examples of alliteration

I was taught that as a woman my feelings
should be hid and kept quiet
that when I liked a boy it was not my place
to ask him whether he liked me back
I was taught to look out for myself by not dressing slutty
not walking home late at night
I was taught that my curvy figure would make people
question my morals my virginity my character
I was taught that as a girl I won't be as successful in math or science
I was taught to give myself to other pursuits
in liberal arts or domestic dealings
I was taught that even if by some miracle I found success in the fields where I "wouldn't be successful"
that I would and should give it up in a heart beat to raise a family
I was taught that I must share my feelings
my emotions my struggles
but not in a loud and open way

I had to remain quiet cool composed

Poetry was to be my outlet, written in couplets sonnets and verse
quiet and held inside written on paper
stored away from the world
to be read inside the mind
by others- men, teachers, parents
in order to decode me
and learn how to
keep
me

silent

Channels and scores of emotion bubble up inside:
It allows you to breathe,
And soon enough it becomes something you can’t hide.
It is the air you breathe,
It gives you life,
Life sustaining oxygen.
It is like water,
Flowing deep beneath your skin;
But for the life of you, you can’t hold it in.
It is the wind you seek,
It blows you in a direction,
One that you do not know;
But it never takes you where you do not want to go.
It is a fire in you;
It burns up inside your soul,
Giving you hope, yet taking control.
Elemental in its presence,
Basic, yet forming your essence.
That is a dream; a vision.
And without one, your life is a sure fail mission.