To Whom it Concerns and Dear Self,

I am to whom it concerns.
I have so much that I still need to learn.
I’m living in the now, not before or the after.
This is what I love most about this chapter.
To whom it concerns and dear self,
This chapter is titled health.
I am achieving my goals with stealth.
These feelings that I’m feeling were once felt.
This chapter that I love most is new to me.
I am myself and myself is who I choose to be.
Life is short so therefore I am living it fully.
I am constantly growing, and I am loving who I grew to be.
I mentioned before that this chapter is titled health.
Life is difficult and it can hurt like a snapped belt.
Life leaves visible bruises and unseen welts.
This is to whom it concerns and dear self.

By Kelly M. Wolff

There’s a stirring within me,
a fervent desire to be seen and heard;
a dormant talent calling out,
beckoning to appear.
Countless thoughts,
endless visions.

The artist emerges,
brush in hand,
painting a scene so serene,
igniting a fire from within.

Can I unveil these parts of me?
Will I be favorably received?
Listen closely:
My voice will echo-
Recognize this, my unique sound,
for soon, favor shall be found.

I bleed rainbows and cry stars

I find community in bars

I was sorrow, I was sin

I denied myself to win

I was lonely and unsure

But no longer immature

I am love and I am strong

I am fearless in my song

I don’t care what others think

And I’ll raise another drink

To brave souls that came before

And blew the locks upon the doors

I am free and I run wild

Like the art made by a child

No remorse and no regret

What you see is what you get

Walk with me and feel my pride

And you will enjoy the ride

Of vibrant life and color burst

Without hunger, without thirst

I am technicolor smile

It just took me but a while

Now I am “alternative”

Let me love and let me live

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be

Remember days like this in frailer years
when silence swallows up your tired soul,
for time will fall away with wistful tears
to fill an echovision water hole.

Deep ripples push his childhood toward the shore,
revealing smiles, laughter, hugs, and trust
in intermittent flashes that restore
the endless ways he killed your wanderlust.

Unburdened by responsibility
and ripe with wisdom, patience, and aplomb,
your inhibitions sank and you were free
to be his guide, his friend, his place of calm.

Sweet memories were anchored to forever
each time you sang of baby sharks together.

I am not a lazy girl
So I’m working on me
This person that I can be
Is much better than before
I feel like a winner
Because I try and try
To let life not pass me by
I am always wanting more

I am wanting happiness
I admit when I am wrong
And I know it won’t be long
Until I am filled with glee
I live an honest life
Filled with love and hope
I know that I can cope
So now I’m much more free

I have skills at my disposal
I have learned so many things
I’ve earned grace and wings
To do with as I please
I help others that are in need
And I feel good inside
I don’t try to hide
My emotions are at ease

But what I love the most
Is the feeling that I get
When I’m myself and yet
This person that I know
Has changed before my eyes
I don’t know where I am going
But I know that I am growing
I follow my own flow

Dear self,
I salute self because of the numerous trials, errors and sudden oppositions which were unfortunate that self had to endure unwanted and definitely no forewarning…. of the tragic loss of self’s son. The eldest son who was like the brighter of the earth’s sun which was the blessing from the womb which made self smile and heart leap with every bit of his age as self raised him to be such a great child with much bravery and grace.
Until that one particular day, that day self wouldn’t have expected that call we as parents, we as mothers dare to imagine that apprehended call which we don’t bear easily and fear the most.
It was October 4th, 2023which was the last of his unspoken breath …. that nightmare call that self didn’t deserve to hear the alarming voice on the other end of the phone line about her son, her eldest baby’s death…. Self’s mind goes spiraling…as her voice was unwinding a holler that was way deeper than the ocean’s wave …. Transition, opposition tell me , explain to self how could this happened on today?
Life happens, Life hurts and Life brings trauma and serves self pain which isn’t on the menu ! Although, this has happened to me, I must say I salute self , dear self because my bittersweet and torn soul has turned into a inspiration and celebration of good memories where self can laugh and smile again as the sun shines upon me as if he too is smiling back because his legacy has left a great inspiring impact as a great brother, awesome father to his son where his wisdom,great talents and love of 38 years upon this planet shall live on….Self I did an amazing job as to raising, loving and teaching my eldest boy …. my first joy and always will be… my first born son! I Salute Self

I am 25.
This is a mood board, sprawling
Swatches of ambition, photographs pinned of places yet to see,
And pastel whispers of what feels true, but I think I like who I am becoming.
I drink an oat milk latte and walk around the house remembering who I was at 24—
Drafting text messages, never sent;
Creating worlds in fictional novels, characters that understood;
Spraying lavender on the pillow sheet, scaring the restless away.
I could write a million words about who I used to be, but I am 25.
I am floating and celebrating this chapter, feeling it expand and contract.
Everything has become clearer—homemade pasta, fuzzy socks, wearing lingerie, lighting cinnamon candles—(because) I didn’t love me.

I am 25. I’ve learned
To believe in my melancholy and that sometimes, things are out of my control; to taste the sweetness in the back of my throat, where my fear quietly waits; to turn pages, and write with fountain pens, and love myself in ways I have never.
I am 25 and I think I like who I am becoming.

Hello friend,
I never thought I would get an opportunity to write anything to you other than perhaps a ulogy. I can’t believe we made it to 45. There were times I didn’t think you would see 30. Been through alot teen pregnancy, mental health diagnosis, a severe drug addiction it has been a wild ride to say the least. Here we are though. Living. Existing, and the best part is the sense of peace we have now. No more praying to get through the day. No more running. No more games. We got here though, fighting tooth and nail for every chance and every change. We learned that if you go out with no make up on the world doesn’t stop. We learned that going to bed at 8 instead of going out at 10 is ok. That solitude and silence is welcomed and not scary anymore. We are not perfect. Far from it but we are progressing. We are growing. There is a sense of calm over us these days no more chaos. We may even have become a little boring compared to our former self. A little set in our ways. I remember the days though that we prayed to be exactly where we are right now. Remember the day you got your first apartment? We kept looking at the keys over and over amazed that someone trusted us enough to have our own space. Our own little piece of this world. That happened only 3 years ago but that gratitude and the awe of being given a chance has not subsided. So yes…we made it. Things are good. Somewhere right now someone is praying to be where we are. Hoping to one day get that key and to embrace the silence instead of fearing it. So in conclusion I would like to say I’m proud of us, …of you. Never would I have thought we would get this far, but here we are. I don’t know what the future will bring. All I can say is hold on tight my dear because this crazy ride isn’t even close to being over.

It’s March. Spring is starting to peek through the clouds.
I’m trying to move slow. I’m trying to be easy.
I’m working hard just to breathe.
I’m pining for control over my own body,
My autonomy feels out of reach.

I am reminded how I felt at sixteen, when I made the choice to starve.
Then I am reminded of the Palestinian children and men and women,
Dark eyes pleading while they wither away,
Bombs reflected back into our view.
I am humbled.

I am not the same as I once was.
Gratitude exists, albeit forced at times.
Growth and healing is an active choice.
I let myself transform.