I love the way you never give up. I love the way no matter how ruthless, mean, harsh kids were you never stopped being you. You never gave in and became a bully yourself. You always loved so hard with all your heart. You were always there for anyone and helped them to see the light out of the darkest times possible. You had such charisma and character always going above and beyond. You took the cards you were dealt and handled them.

I remember watching your dark shadows of all different shapes and people, day and night, move across the landscape. I never knew your name.
I witnessed your worlds and dangers which only I could see and experience;
being buried alive in clouds of earth and rain isn’t nice you know.

You released a ripple inside my soul; wild; untamable; starving for my own flesh and blood and soul.
It did not take long for it to become a tsunami, an ephemeral disaster of reality’s true desire to end Humanity, breaking me again, and again, and again against the sharp cliffs of my patch-worked psyche.

I have no need to tame you. Not when you bring me such euphoria.
I have no desire to cease your wonderful, yet terrific cursed blessing of mine.

You allow the worlds I imagine, and the danger I make up, and the death I create flow from my mind and onto the pages I endlessly write in now. An addiction to the tsunami I can never be free of. An addict seeking the fix my mind gives you.

How does it feel now that I have become the ripple? The tsunami? I bet you’re starving to fuel this shared addiction of ours; your imagination to my reality.

So, what should I write next?

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I love your true colors, ‘cause you have always been you.
Even when young and the sky was grey
you had it in you to smile and dance in the rain.
This isn’t a poem, but a letter to you-Little Annie
Dear Little Annie I admire you and love you. When I look in the mirror, I try to connect with you. Honesty sitting here at 32 and writing to you is hard. But I’m going to! I love how you were never afraid to write, how creative your mind is. I love how when you put your pen to paper it just seemed to create life. You weren’t afraid to say what was inside, even if it was a fantasy or a story of what could be or a story of processing, even escaping everything you been through…anything really! And here I am struggling to write to you-to me-to us. Girl I’ve been thinking about what to say and write about to you. That is a true shame. I’ve been trying to figure out if I even know you, recognize you or remember any parts of you. So I put this off to last minute, maybe even overthinking which is something I think we both tend to do…that is a real shame too. But when I think of you-my inner self- my inner child, I hide and avoid and I don’t know why. Truly I don’t! truly I don’t know when I pushed you aside. So I write this letter with hopes of finally finding you inside. Little Annie you have 5 children now and all of them are their own people but little mini you’s too!
You have that 1 one that is shy and reserved and a jokester and the right moment will make her come alive, she kind of has a mean streak but still sweet! 1 that is tough on the surface but truly soft underneath…like a sour patch kid “First he’s sour, then sweet”, he longs for love and affection. You have 1 that is just full of love and attentiveness towards you-feels your pain and only wants to be a joy to you! Kind, loving, helpful and a protector at heart. You have 1 that is intelligent, bright (as in a sweet soft light) and brilliant and a little quirky too! Then you have 1, the youngest, who is brave, with a beautiful curious mind. Full of openness and expression and has a passion for fashion. Inquisitive, reserved on for a moment. And, willing to push pass fear. She is blunt and outspoken and a people’s person! what she likes and how she likes it. Damn it, I’m getting teary eyed. All of them are individuals in their own right but are your 5 heart beats- a part of you! You held all these little parts in you. Where you became lost to see you-Allah gave you…you in the physical! How beautiful! That’s why you[I] find it important to nurture and nourish them because in a way you’re [I’m] doing that for yourself[me]. They don’t even know it but they are teaching us to love all of ourself. They bring out the child in me. Playful, creative, explorative, the joker, the reserved and brave one with a mind full of wonders and an energy that wants to be unleashed. You seen the world as many different possibilities, and you never limited yourself. You had a love for the creator and a wonder about His Power and Might. In you, you knew Allah was everywhere and never out of sight. I love that about you because you’re now Muslim! I remember you adopting all the children you can by writing letters and sending “a penny a day” or even throwing away food and money just in case someone went through your trash that day! Wow, I’m just now realizing “a penny a day” is something I say and do! Collecting pennies- the small things add up to big gains! A figure of speech, but when I see actual pennies, I make sure to pick them up! Gives me a reminder along the way! So, I want to thank you and tell you I love you Lil Annie for always being you even when I forget along the way
Love Big Annie!
p.s you and I both love we are named after our Granny!!! Now you’re no longer….Little Annie! In a way!!! Xoxo

Dear younger me,

I love and appreciate you so much. You are beautiful, empathetic, creative, caring, kind, intelligent, determined, understanding, courageous, and the list goes on and on. You have so many amazing qualities, as well as some flaws. I love every part of you but what I love most about you is your resilience. You made it through the hardest times of our life. Some days felt like real life nightmares that you couldn’t wake up from. Most of your nights were filled with actual nightmares that left you in a state of fear even while you were resting. While other nights you were unable to sleep because of the mental anguish you were left in from all of the hardships you encountered in life. You rarely knew peace. You’ve been through things no little girl should ever have to go through. When I think about everything you’ve endured, I want to hug you, hold you tight, and squeeze away every ounce of negative emotions you feel. I know it seems like no one cares about you or loves you but I know one thing for sure, I love you! You’ve been through a lot and through it all, you never gave up, even when you had every reason to. I know at times you asked yourself “Why is this happening to me?” and I want you to know that it’s not your fault. We don’t get to choose the cards we’re dealt, but we can make the most of them. Everything happens for a reason. The dark times are behind you now, so just keep looking forward to the future as I know you like to do. As I like to say, “The darker the past, the brighter the future.” You were meant for great things. You’ve endured things people can’t even imagine going through and you survived. It takes resilience to withstand the pain you’ve endured, whether that be emotional pain or physical pain. They say “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and this has proven to be very true for you. I appreciate you and your resilience for getting me through those hard times. I love you, younger me.

Sincerely,

Looking at this younger picture of you
Like damn I wish I could go back in time,
Wish I could bring some things back with me,
Damn you were so true
In the middle of the room showing off your moves
You kept your head up through all the things you been through,
Kept your own opinion even with all the different views, I’m so proud of you
Life ain’t easy, things can be so crude
You definitely got something brewed
Only putting food in your mouth that you can chew
like that’s a whole new meaning to the word wealth
You ain’t complaining about the cards you were dealt
Doing things you ain’t wanna do when you wasn’t in the mood
You was doing things nobody else was doing
You kept your own cloth and now it’s so smooth like some velvet, oooh

I used to be embarrassed
of my sensitivity, my feelings, my heart
I was made to feel ashamed,
like my softness was a weakness
But what I didn’t realize then
was that those who shamed me
felt threatened by my vulnerability
and my capacity to feel
because that was a weakness of their own
Either because they could not understand
what it was like to feel so deeply
Or because they did not know how to respond
to something so profound
Or because they were unable to sit
in the discomfort of vulnerability
Whatever the reason,
it was always their problem-
not mine

My vulnerability, my capacity to feel, my softness,
and my unapologetic need
to express what’s in my heart
This is my strength,
my superpower,
my bulletproof vest
protecting me from regret
ensuring I always stay on the path
that’s intended for me

Sometimes it feels like a curse
to feel everything so deeply
and to be so painfully aware of it all
but I’ve learned to love this about myself
It’s rare, it makes me me
It lets me live my life in full color
I experience every single day to its full capacity
my senses always heightened
my heart sinking and swelling
countless times each day
I feel the entire spectrum of emotion
with burning intensity
all in one day
and I wouldn’t have it any other way
Anything else would feel
boring, dull, muted, incomplete
At least this way,
I get to feel and experience
every single thing
that life has in store for me

My heart, my sensitivity, my capacity to feel,
these things were never a weakness
I’ve just spent a lifetime surrounded
by people who did not understand my soul
but now I understand me
and that’s all I need

Perfect little soldier

Dear little me.
I respect you.
I appreciate that you were strong.
But I don’t love you that you were.
Because you shouldn’t have had to be.
You were the soldier no one noticed.

Even though we’re one in the same.
I know you so well.
But I don’t know how you survived the things you did.
You should never have been drafted.
You were a gentle soul.
Quite, shy.
You wanted everyone to like you.
Not built for war.
But you ended up being the perfect soldier.
A fighter.
Because you fought to bring me here today.

Every day waiting for the car ride home was like preparing to go back into the combat zone.
Fighting a war made up of friendly fire.
Confused why love looks like bullets.
And words are grenades.
Combat medic trying to bandage wounds that won’t stop bleeding while everyone haemorrhages around you.
Blood, tears, and chaos, your constant companion.
Walking to school everyday with seeping wounds no one sees.
Being forced to enlist changes you.
Eyes that have seen too much pain.
Arms tired from holding a gun made for hands bigger than yours.
Unable to relate to your classmates.
Hopscotch didn’t remind them of avoiding explosions.
The sound of gun fire didn’t ring in their ears during class.
It never stops ringing.
Never your own thoughts, just the sound of explosions and gunfire in your mind.

I hate now the coping mechanisms you learned,
but I love that you learned them.
You saw the war we were in and you built us armour with your tiny hands.
You dug trenches to protect us from the onslaught.
Erected a wall to stop the shrapnel of our parents shattered life’s that hit us.
Laced barb wire around our heart so no one could get close enough to take us out with friendly fire again.

The perfect soldier.
You learned the warning signs, the sounds to take cover.
You trained us to raise the walls and bunker down to ride out an attack.
We wouldn’t have survived without your fortress.
The perfect soldier, resourceful.
You learned how to hug yourself alone in your room as you cried.

Now when I see feel warning signs go off
When the alarm sounds off you used to duck and cover so many times.
I feel the walls go up.
And I end up in our bunker because of those that haven’t shot me yet.
I end up feeling trapped inside these walls you built.
I want to resent you.

But it wasn’t your fault.
You had to dig these trenches, you didn’t have a choice.
You laid the bricks of these walls to save us from the sieges that were happening.
You survived in the only way you knew how.
But now our armour doesn’t serve us.
It’s heavy to walk in everyday.
And I’m tired of the echoes of this bunker being my only company.

For years when I recalled you, I thought I was laying white flowers at your grave.
A martyr.
A girl that never truly lived, killed at 10.
Ask to become the parent.
Be the human shield your parents wanted
Ask to die for a cause not about you.
Lay down your life for others.
It was never asked if you wanted it.
To lay your tiny body over your exploding family.
Gone is the little girl that used to throw herself at the ground over and over until she learned to cartwell on her own.
The little girl who felt like she was was so proud of her first poem.
Childhood was ransacked from you.
You never got to think about yourself, you were too busy making sure we lived till tomorrow.
You never thought of today always just dreaming or a day that you could come home from the war.
But you never saw it.

But as I dissect the pieces of me I realise you’re not dead.
You’re just hiding under all that armour.
You’re just trembling in a trench.
Don’t worry; I will find you.
I’ll find the kareells I want to conquer and I throw myself at them for you.
I’ll learn to let someone hug me.
I can’t bring myself to do it for me.
But I can do it when I think of you.
Because it’s hard to love me but it’s easy to love you.
Because I know you deserved more.
We deserved more.
So thank you for your sacrifice.
Everyday I’ll remember as I lay those flowers at the grave of our childhood.
Thinking of you as I take on each new day
Knowing its empty tomb.
You’re not there, you’re in me.
I’ll keep you alive everyday
That I chose to love you.
That I chose to love me.

Big dreams.
Taking up all the space of her young brain.
Big words.
Being consumed and expelled with little gain.
Big eyes.
Wonder-filled eyes of chestnut, of burnt grain.
Big tears.
Rivers and rivers, flooding like rain.

Picture it- a girl that feels so much that she feels everything.
Picture it- a girl that feels so much that she feels nothing.
Picture it- a girl who had a dream to give to the world but it was shattered,
battered,
scattered,
like it never mattered,
causing existential crises as the rain pattered.

Writing every new word she learned.
Seeing opportunities everywhere she turned.
Hoping that pure love could be earned.
Naive to what evils that had to be discerned.

A girl who would let others take and take and take because she knew no other way.
Her heart would break and break and break until she stood up for herself one day.

I am so proud of the young girl that kept dreaming even when things fell apart.
Even when things broke her tender heart.
Even when she felt she could no longer produce art.
Even when she felt she was lost and had nowhere to start.

Girl with a big heart who thought it was a curse.
Girl that fit as many just-in-case things in her purse.
Girl that cared for others as if they were in a hearse.
Girl that gave herself for others, for better or for worse.

Young girl. Little did you know your dreams would come true.
Young girl. Little did you know that person you dreamed of was you.

24 July 2024
Dear Alexa,

I think next to daily about the things I’d tell you if I could. I hope you know that I think of you when I go to sleep at night, and I imagine holding you close and sending love in rainbow shockwaves into your mind.

I love your deep voice, your banana curls, your huge belly button, your underbite. I love your silliness, your creativity, your insistence to move, your unceasing questions, your refusal to be silenced. I love that you can’t eat any yogurt that’s not key-lime flavored. I love everything you think is tacky about yourself, down to the cheetah print outfit Mom bought so we could match.

I love how much you look like mom, and how I startle myself passing by my reflection in mirrors because I see her instead. I love the way you carry your family with you in all that you do, in the sonar echoes of Dad’s love of the ocean, in our fingerprints in Mom’s clay.

I love your insistence on a brand, an identity. It’s changed through the years, but I steadfastly uphold it with a fervor that’s both mocked and envied in the same breath. I love it. No one can ever be the us that we become, and I know you, like I, would wear that as a badge of honor.

I know this is a letter to hype you up, but I’m sneaking this in and they can’t stop me: in a couple years from your now, ABBA gets back together, makes an album, and creates a hologram concert of themselves in London, England. You will be in attendance. Fuck the haters; you were right and you should know that.

All things to say, things get really good. They look bad for a little bit, but YOU (yes, you!) power through them with a grit and determination that would strike fear into God. You’re an unstoppable force, baby girl, and you have—maybe not the strength—but the willpower to move mountains, even if you take it one really cool piece of basalt at a time. That’s right! We’re a geologist—the one job that everyone told us was not feasible is now my sole source of income.

Everything comes back around. Every two-week-hobby you pour your soul into will come back one day in your job, your favorite drink will be mine (a Shirley Temple with two limes, obviously), and even though you fight against it, my job is exactly what you wanted to do in kindergarten.

You know who you are, you’re not afraid of that, and you are excited to see how that changes as you grow up. Many adults I know cannot say the same. You live up to your name, you defend people whenever you can, you step up in front of people to keep them from facing the brunt of a conflict. You are truly a free spirit, Alexa, because no matter how hard they dog on you, they cannot get and keep you down. Remember that.

I’m twenty-two and still alive. I love it dearly. I get mistaken for a stoner every two seconds because I wax poetic about the sun feeling like shaved legs under a sherpa winter blanket, or making grass angels and giggling when I get dirt stains on the ass of my homemade cut-off denim shorts. I can’t help it! I love my life, and it’s scary sometimes, but always worth it. I’ve lived through it all up to this point, and I don’t plan on stopping.

I love the life that you cultivated, and I love the person you grew to become. I couldn’t love my life without you.

I love you more than all the salt in the world, AJ Monkey,
Alexa (that’s you!)

PS. I even own the chicken purse Mom wouldn’t let us buy in seventh grade. It’s my everyday purse. Being an adult is awesome.

if i could travel back in time
and talk to my younger self
i’d travel back a decade
to time when i was 12
i’d take him to outback
cause it’s his favorite restaurant
find a corner booth and say
“Get whatever you want.”
he would pick something cheap
because he’s trying to be polite
i’d tell him it’s okay
because he’s more than worth the price
i’d ask him about school
and what subjects does he love
i’d ask about his homies
and what girl is now a crush
i’d listen to him yammer
cause i know he likes to talk
pay close attention to
each and every single thought
i’d ask about his clothes
and if he picked them himself
he’d probably say he fly
and he don’t need nobody help
bust out laughing
cause i’d say the same shit
only reaffirming that
i’m still the same kid
we’d split 4 appetizers
2 orders of wings and fries
side caesar salds
tryna balance out the diet
we would chow down
then slide into nerd land
talk about dragon ball, naruto, and spider-man
i’d laugh at all his jokes
even if they kinda corny
tell him that he’s funny
cause that skill gon’ be important
while we wait for dessert
imma ask him how he’s doing
then i’ll ask again
cause that’s where most people lose him
don’t know what he’d say exactly
from so long ago
probably tell me bout his daddy
that got shot some months ago
i’d ask how he’s holding up
he’d assure me that he’s fine
i’d tell him that he doesn’t have to be
all of the time
we’d finish our sweets
i’d finish paying the bill
find a spot outside
me and him could go and chill
then i would reveal
that i’m really future him
he’d ask questions to confirm
i’d complete
and then he’d grin
he’d get so excited
and probably say that i’m cool
i’d probably start crying
from all the joy in the room
i think he’d be surprised
that i did it so fast
cause he hasn’t done it much
since when he lost his dad
i’d tell him that it’s freeing
he should give it a try
hug him with all my being
while he balls from his eyes
tell him he’s okay
that he’s always safe with me
and on his roughest days
to just hold a place for me
i’d tell him that i love him
a hundred and plus times
and don’t be scared to fewl
tryna be some tough guy
cause lil man you special
God put you here for a reason
put words to all them feelings
you gon give people healing
tell him, since i love him
that just means he loves himself
please recall that lesson
every time you need some help
tell him that i’m leaving
but to not be scared
just call me,
and i’ll be right there

I had every intention of writing something perfect for this submission, as any artist knows – perfection is the antithesis of the process. Please enjoy, I apologize for any typographical errors, this is being submitted as a first draft – I wrote this in my Uber on the way home from the airport.

Tonight, while flying home from my childhood home, I witnessed a man die for the first time. At 7:18pm, I bought my favorite candy – skittles – and a bottle of water. Boarding started at 7:23 and I was gleeful to make the timing after the abhorrent flight adventure of the past 5 days. I texted my mom, thanking her for the meals she made me while I played cards with my dad each night. There is nothing more privileged than getting to lay your head to rest in your childhood bedroom. My room, once painted hot pink – now the walls are beige – is filled with books, journals, cds and sports participation medals. When I lay in my childhood bed and stare at the ceiling, I can faintly see the pencil reacting from 2000 stating “I love Luke”. Luke aka my elementary school LOVE. It only takes a couple of mornings back home for me to become annoyed with the noise level in the morning. As mom makes coffee, dad opens the garage to leave for work and my sister comes over for breakfast with her son – it only takes a couple of days for me to groan “ughhhh I can’t wait to be back in MY home, MY apartment where none of this noise wakes me up!” I dreamt of being able to say that to myself when those walls were still hot pink. Fantasizing about the cities I’d live in, the adventures I’d encounter. I often lived in my head, seeing the promise of optimism in the world. When I was a child, I believed that the big blue lake sparkled because mermaids had hidden diamonds under the sand. When I stared at the tall trees and their magnificent branches, I thought about how fairies and caterpillars must cohabitate. Because something and everything as wondrous as nature in this physical world MUST include a bit of magic. As I’ve aged, that wonder and amazement has somehow persisted. Through heart break, depression, abuse, loss, desperation – that glimpse of the world with the sparkling waters and magnificent tree branches remain. Albeit, stifled. Pushed down so as to not seem gullible or weak. Compartmentalized so that I can be taken seriously, the way I so badly wanted everyone – specifically my love, Luke – to take me seriously in 2000. My life’s path has been jagged with twists and turns, like most. But when I go home, my home home, not my apartment in Atlanta. Not the rooms all around the country that I so willingly shared the name of HOME with. It is in those moments that I hear her again, whispering in my inner conscious – do you see how the dew collects on those flower petals? Magic. Do you see how the sun shines through the cumulous clouds? Magic. Do you want to go an adventure? Where and how far? The whispers grow as I’m cocooned in my childhood bed, watching the narratives paint themselves over the beige walls until they return to hot pink.

Skittles in hand, I watched a man who was maybe 70 years old topple forward as Zone 4 was boarding the flight. I was Zone 5 and eager to get back home to my apartment in Atlanta. Someone screamed as individuals ran to the large body and turned him over. He was bleeding on his forehead and his limbs were limp. A civilian nurse immediately began CPR after a gentleman yelled “he’s not breathing, call 911”! The rest of the flight backed up to give the first responders space when they arrived at 7:32. They ripped his jeans to give him a shot that I assume was adrenaline, and hooked him up to the AED machine. “CLEAR” they yelled as the man next to me asked the gate attendants when they expected we could board again. A woman standing next to me grabbed my hand, it was then that I realized that we were watching this man leave this physical realm. As tears filled the gate area around me, my own life flashed before my eyes. I thought about my mom’s meals, how loud my family was every morning, playing cards with my dad. I thought about the glistening waters, hugging my dog and how it felt to lay in my childhood bed among my memories. I thought about this man, his family, how did he once see the world? Where was his home? Did he ever get to experience love or feel the magic I so firmly once believed in? By 7:46, they had rolled his body onto the EMS transport and off he went with police escort. First responders left behind shook their heads, wiping off sweat. We were boarded and off to Atlanta by 8:01pm.
I now sit in my apartment and am staring at the ceiling, wishing I could be home again. Nothing feels the same as it did when I bought those skittles.
I have prayed but now, I’ll write this letter to my inner child, reminding her of all that life hopes to bear.

Dear KK,

Never lose your heart. Your sense of humanity. You have experienced the darkest hours and still held on to the light. Your ferocious kindness is a gift, not a weakness to be stifled. Your lust of for learning, your compassion for humanity is a gift – not a hindrance. Although there will be days that the shine doesn’t feel as bright, find the glitter. Sprinkle it for yourself and others. Believe that good will always prevail. Perfection has never been what you seek, stay the course of adventure. Steady the hand that convinces you the world is beige, rather than hot pink. You are all you ever imagined and you have all you could have ever hoped for. Never stop calling in those you love, so that they too can see the vastness of life from your magical perspective. Remember that home is a feeling, one that can be carried with you to many new places and will hold you tight when at terminal A18 in Detroit. Time is an illusion, 40 minutes can feel like a lifetime and for some. I love that life impacts you and you hold it even more close.

Until you can no longer, be love. Be big. Be you.

To my better half,

I would typically start with something like, “Hope this letter finds you well”, but we both know that’s not the case, so I’ll skip the pleasantries and cut to the chase.

Buckle up, kid. It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. You’re trying to tune out the fighting, doors slamming, and that bathroom mirror shattering into hundreds of pieces. She’s hoping you’re too young to understand what’s happening or that you won’t remember when you get older, but it’s all still there, locked away in a dusty little cabinet of dark memories. To be fair, most days you won’t think about it, but you can still feel it, like a stain on the carpet that you forget about until company comes over and the whole time you’re wondering if they notice.

I could offer you reassurance that none of this is your fault; that she’s doing her absolute best to protect you, and if she knew how it was affecting you she would have found a way out a lot sooner. I could tell you how liberating it’ll be when you finally watch that gray house get smaller and smaller until it fades in the rearview knowing you will never see it again, or how a musty cot feels like a California king when you can rest your head knowing you won’t be woken in the middle of the night to sneak out to the minivan while he’s still asleep and can’t stop us from leaving.

But I know that’s not enough. You’re living through a hell so few could comprehend, and it’s not fair. No amount of sympathy or advice is going to change that. And even when that nightmare ends it seems like there’s always another obstacle to work around, another person trying to take control, or another consequence of someone else’s bad decisions you have to overcome.

The only thing I can tell you that might give you the slightest bit of hope is this; you are the best part of me. When I can’t get out of bed because the weight is just too heavy, or I feel like I’m not enough, I reach for you. I stare past my reflection in that broken mirror and call to that little girl who is somehow strong enough to get up every morning with the hope that today will be better than yesterday. That girl is scared but strong. She’s angry, but she’s kind. The flames you’re fighting now become the guiding light that brings me back when I forget who I am and what I’m capable of.

This is long overdue because you won’t hear it from anyone else, but I’m sorry. And I am so proud of you.

All my love,

– Alyssa

To my dear inner child, so robust and resilient.

Your preciousness went unnoticed by those who failed to recognize it.

Your delicate nature made you susceptible to influence, and I long for the tranquility of your innocence.

Those who loved you should have shielded you from harm, but your parents were unaware of their responsibility.

You were a treasured trophy, sought after by many, but attained by few.

You deserved more than to be a casualty of divorce and remarriage.

My dear inner child, despite your ongoing struggles, do not give up. Your journey has only just begun.

Don’t let know one steer you wrong
You hungry for knowledge and the gossip and naysayers are hungry for your thundercloud
Wisdom
I guarantee you a lifetime of ups and downs
I guarantee you will feel the Ray’s of unease bite like a naw of a kitchen blade
Triumph
You have plenty of awards
None impresses more than the smile though
Cause time doesn’t show
You cry and want no more
I love you Chica
That’s my pen saying you true
A true blue

Dear little me,
The way you dance like the world is your stage
Is something you’ll do even as you age
You say everything on your mind
Without realizing it might not be kind
But you never mean to hurt anyone
You’re just trying to have a little fun
After all, you are little me
The little girl who wishes to see
Everything as far as the moonshine beams

You love to climb trees and be one with nature
Always looking out for your next big adventure
A love you’ll carry with you in the future
As you grow up to be a bloomer
Don’t ever hold back on how you flourish
For one day, you’ll have others you will nourish

You are fire
You are light
You are doing everything right
You may only be five
But I hope you grow up to thrive

Yours truly, future you.

So lovely.
Say it with me, so lovely.
The whispers constantly there, who owns them?
The feeling constantly fear, who hones it?
The path constant effort, Let’s show it.
Freestyle life, whispers *hone it*
Perseverance, *renowned it*
Simplicity, always rejoicing in it.
Warrior, no beef, peace, humanitarian, fruitarian, little u.
An open vessel. All emotions, wide open. let them all in now.

When I think of a younger me
Sometimes the memories are blurry
And I cannot always see clearly
But I remember a feeling of being carefree.

I hear my siblings tell tales
Of all my wiles and wisecracks,
The jokes that I would spin
To get out of trouble, my mother stifling a grin.

There are t-shirts and programs
From musicals and plays
Belonging a girl who was not too shy
To enjoy centerstage.

Sometimes as I look back I am embarrassed
By how I now let my anxieties harass
And keep me hidden away,
Too afraid to say what I need to say.

But then I think of all she has taught me–
This younger version, unafraid to stand out–
To let my emotions be felt, big or small,
And not shy away from being different at all.

Her confidence was not based on numbers
From an online following or a scale.
She did not chase success or popularity,
There was no cookie cutter path or well worn trail.

She loved seeing other laugh and smile,
The reality was, she did not feel the need to impress.
And if she saw someone who seemed lonely
She would pull them in to join the rest.

There was no box she could be put in,
There was no being “too much,”
There was no touchy feely, drama queen,
There was no “not good enough,”

There was simply being happy,
There were people who truly saw me,
There was being bright and bubbly,
There was the possibility of becoming anything.

And sometimes when I think of that little girl
I want to wrap her up in my arms, hold her near,
And whisper to her softly,
“I will always be right here.”