A piece I wrote a couple years ago, during one of my many identity crises. I don't remember exactly what made me write it.

Weight of the World

When I was 10

My friends filled with dreams of boys and

Dabbed-on lipstick

Spoke of maturity just out of reach.

Of boyfriends and parties

Of curved clothes and makeup

Of signs that we’d vanquished our childhoods

And entered an era of gold.

I picked up the globe that lay tossed on the floor and I

Hoisted it

Atlas who stood at 4’5”.

Back then

I was the responsible one

Who did her homework and knew

What was truth.

I turned to them

Europe atop of my shoulders

And chided

“You worry about boys and shopping

But me –

I will carry the weight of the world.”

Six years flew by

A tortoise-hare race

We thought that we had all the time in the world.

We were wrong

About that

And so many more things.

Our years had stretched out

Like ankles escaping confinements of cuffs

One inch at a time

Until you looked down and saw you’d been growing

The jeans form a timeline

For those who ignore.

At ten

I was the grounded one

Who knew that Santa wasn’t real

That cats and grandparents and goldfish die

Who wanted to be wrong

And wasn’t.

I used to think that life was unlimited

Dreams were all possible

That love has more power than anything.

I was ten.

I’m sixteen now

The age where I’d be cool and clever

Popular and pretty

The age I’ve never reached.

I’m not the girl I used to be.

I live in my layers of worlds

Never knowing where to stay

Never knowing who to be

Never sure of why I’m here.

Is this growing up?

My friends grew old with gusto

Pride in push-up bras and rough chapped lips

That brushed for magic seconds.

We said we’d all have boyfriends, but I find Y chromosomes like lemongrass sodas –

Something you need to try in your lifetime

If only to say that you have

Something you chug down in seconds and slam on the table

A taste you’ll remember

But never return to.

They didn’t feel that way.

And now

My friends grow old in ways I’ll never understand

Their eyes lose their wonder from

Nights spent in shelters

From boys sick on power and

Barriers shattered in backseats of cars

No “I love you” to soften their silent pain at losing

A piece of themselves.

This

I see in their eyes.

My friends live in the true world

Betrayal and pain find their ways to their hearts

In burdens they carry that curve at their spines

In weights I will never have strength to uphold

In moments my child-self dreamed of

And missed.

In ways that make me

The lucky one.

My friends live in worlds made of anguish and love

Slammed down and aged by the feelings they find.

My friends have grown up and now carry the world

But me?

I sit with my pen

And I dream.