Sincerely October

How do you define yourself?

A collection of poems written from the perspectives of my past selves answering the question "how do you define yourself."

You are what you love // Age seven
I am my princess dresses and braided hair.
I am my drawings and favorite toys.
I am my Barbie dolls and blue owl.
I love school, I love my friends.
I love my teacher who makes hearts out of melted crayons.
I love my mom and my dad who reads me stories at night.
I love going to the library and town market.
I love my beanie babies.
I am everything I love.

Day and night // Age eight
During the day I am me.
I love school, I am my teacher's favorite student and I always get the best grades.
I love to paint in the backyard with my dad, I love to listen to the songs on the radio.
I am an artist, I always paint and draw and create.
I love to be with my friends, I can't wait for my birthday, I can't wait to grow up.
I shine like the sun.
I am happy.
During the night I don't know what I am.
I am confused.
What did I do wrong? Why don't you listen when I say no?
Maybe I am doing something that makes you stop loving me.
Why don't you love me?
I am scared tonight but when the sun rises I will go away.

Rain cloud // Age eleven
I don't have many friends anymore, I rain on them too much.
The kids at school say mean things to me, but as long as I have my best friend I don't care.
I like dressing in all black like I see online. I love watching people like me, I carry their book with me everywhere.
People say I talk about them too much.
I wish they would see how bad things are.
I am a raincloud, I am a wilting flower.

Up until sunrise // Age thirteen
I am a mess, I spill paint on everyone who walks past me.
I want to stay up all night, I want to dress like a girl even if it makes me feel bad.
I have friends now, I love spending my weekends with them, spring break was a dream.
I want to push the limits, I want to have fun, I want to try what you tell me I shouldn't.
I feel elated, I feel the sun pulsing through me, I feel melancholy, I cried in the back of math class.
I am crazy, I'll tell you so before you get the chance.

Rotting in blue // age fourteen
Something aches, I can't ever tell you what he did to me but I can't hide the fact that I am hurting.
I am so lost in the disconnect. I know what's wrong but I ripped those memories to shreds, I'll pretend but you still see through me.
I will steal your wine knowing that you'll notice it going missing.
I'll write pages upon pages of some of the worst writings ever known.
My diary has a lock, why wouldn't it?
I'm up to no good, I am no good.
I know the drugs are bad but they work.
Punish me every time I get caught, you can't stop me, we both know it.
I'm rotting but I don't care.
Maybe I should kill myself, maybe I will, maybe tommrow, maybe today.
I'll put on my blue dress so I will look good at the funeral.

I'm still learning // Age fifteen
I didn't die in that blue dress, I gave it away.
I stopped with the drugs, I didn't want to when I started but now I go to NA and pick up a chip every month.
I stopped wearing dresses, I stopped pretending to be a girl.
Something is still wrong, but you don't have to know that, I don't have to know that.
I'll do my schoolwork at a desk that stands taller than me.
I'll enjoy my summer and my trips to the city.
I'll start writing poetry, I'll write about what I'm learning, I'll write about not knowing who I am or what happens after you die.
I'll act my age, I'll date girls and boys, I'll ache but only a little, I'll stay up all night and enjoy spring break.
I jump from passion to passion like lily pads on the surface of a pond.
So maybe I have skeletons in my closet, I feel the sun on my skin now and that's what matters.
I'll embrace authenticity, if I can't tell you what is true then I'll pretend it's not.

My little dark age // age sixteen
I pace around your couch and it comes pouring out of me, I call my mom from my friend's guest bedroom in tears.
I told someone about what he did to me, I may have been drunk, I can't recall.
You know now, everyone knows now, there's nowhere to hide.
I sleep on the couch or on the floor or in my fort because I can't sleep in the bed it happened in.
I started with the drugs again, it's worse this time.
When I stop I get sick. My vision has been blurry for days. I am drunk when no one else is.
I get high in the bathroom at the library.
I feel the addiction settling into my bones. I can't stop thinking about it.
I spend most of my time in my fort, I don't want to look at these walls.
All I think about is the drugs and the rape.
I listen to the same songs on repeat for days. I tried to stop but I couldn't.
I write endlessly, I pour myself onto the page.
I am bruised.

Marigold season // age seventeen
It's my seventeenth birthday. I think I'll tell someone about the drugs. I want to stop but I can't.
I tell sit down and I tell her about all of it. Maybe I was still high. I told her about the moment I realized I lost control.
It's been a few days since my seventeenth birthday. I'm in rehab now. I am sick from stopping. I haven't stopped shaking, I feel asleep on the living room floor.
I didn't last, I didn't make it long, but I will try again.
I tested it for the last time to accept that I can't live like this, I stop in a way that matters.
I feel like myself again. I haven't felt like myself in ages.
I don't think about the rape so much anymore.
I write about things besides the rape and the drugs.
I feel the sunshine onto my skin again, the flowers are blooming.