Time Slips

A Life, as It Was and Is

I was born too cold and I needed to be warmed up by artificial heaters, not the warmth of my own mother, until she demanded to see me and held me tight in her arms and

when she let go I cried and cried so she held me closer and

closer until I

stopped.

I was the youngest baby in the burn unit of the hospital when I was scorched from a broken heater in the sink while taking a bath-- it left me with a few faded scars that look like birthmarks all down my stomach and legs-- and

my dad can't begin to talk about it because it

hurts him too much to think of such

times.

I grew into a reserved litte thing, following my mom like a duckling and loving Spiderman to the point that I had adopted his name as a middle name, but other kindergartners would make fun of my Spiderman backpack because it was a "boy backpack" which led to me crying and throwing it out and

eventually hiding behind a pink

turtle-shell-backpack of

conformity.

I grew up with selfish friends who used me and took and took and took before I was finally fed up, and then I met Him and Her and a few others; over the years of middle and high school they saved me and they helped me and

they peeled back my shell of self doubt,

self consciousness, and

selfishness...

Then, He left, He left, He left me feeling so bad and lonely and not knowing what this pitiful life of mine was about and what it was all for and what I wanted to do and how I wanted to change this world we live in like he changed it for me and

part of my life

went away

with his.

Now, here I am, in a cold room in a cold state with a cold country and death all around me in this cold season, and all I can do is laugh and cry and move and grow and learn, because like the earth and the sun and the universe, everything gets old and time moves on and

forgets and forgives until

we are all dust

in the end.