Falling Up.

Writer’s block demolished.

I guess it’s time to pick up that graphite and my handy-dandy journal and get started again.

The only thing an eight year old should be concerned with

Is recess and trading pudding cups for cookies.

However,

When I was eight

I was concerned about so much more.

I woke up that day

Just like I did the day before.

I was excited to go to school,

Just like the day before.

The doors opened for school at

8:15.

I scurried in,

Put my things in my cubby,

and made sure that I was at my desk by

8:30;

The time school started.

I said my pledge,

Just like every other morning.

And then at

8:35

We were working on our times tables.

Then we hear our Principal’s voice at

8:51

Teachers, please immediately turn on channel three.

There was not one face

In that class

That wasn’t confused.

I looked back down to my times table chart.

I was having trouble working with my 4’s.

But when I looked back up,

I saw the CNN logo.

I was initially confused,

Because being in the back of the class,

I had trouble seeing the tiny tv.

I thought that the tv was broken,

Because only half the screen was in color.

Then I walked closer with a few of my classmates

And saw the smoke.

My teacher explained to us

That our country was under attack.

But I was still confused.

What was being attacked?

Who was attacking us?

Why were they attacking us?

I got home

And the same picture was on

On my family room tv.

I turned to my mom and asked her

What was happening,

She tearfully said,

Terrorists flew planes into

Some buildings in New York.

I later found out what the buildings were

In my next question to her.

Then the last question I asked her was

“Why are some people filled with so much hate?”

She couldn’t answer.

Then the next day came,

And the country was silent.

The great America I learned about in my history books

Was weeping.

But as an eight year old,

I picked up on something

That many others didn’t.

These terrorists were trying to break our country.

They were trying to mangle

And crush everything America was.

But the exact opposite happened.

September 12th, 2001,

The country stood closer together

Than ever before.

The hate had started to die out

At the pace of the settling smoke.

Instead of tearing a country apart,

They brought a country together.

It was within these few days that

I realized that I didn’t just live in some little suburb,

But that I lived in

The strongest country known to man.

When I tell my children this story,

The moral will never be

‘Look at all this hate in the world’

But rather

‘Look at this amazing country that you live in.’

And I will always be sure to tell them one thing-

Never forget.

A slip of the hand

And we’re in bed.

All of our responsibilities 

Are starting to collect dust

Like collectible snow-globes on the highest shelf.

But as you’re taking a small nap next to me

And because I can’t take naps

I remain on that bed next to you and ponder.

A year ago tomorrow

You’ll figure out that

I can look like a lady

And act like a lady,

But you’re on your own for the dance floor.

I thought things sucked then

And when I look back on it,

They did.

I never knew what thought was mine

Or when I should use proper MLA documentation.

I should have tattooed

“PLEASE ACCEPT ME”

On my forehead.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have had to try so hard.

Then you still talked to me

The day I had snot-streaked sleeves.

I don’t want this to be a love poem,

Unless the person that I am loving is myself.

I love you and all, but you love me for some reason too.

Middle school girls call that bitchy.

Human beings would call that narcissistic.

I just call it confidence.

Why should I look down on myself

Because I can’t give myself

That natural computerized-airbrush look.

I barely have the effort to take out my contacts at the end of a long day

So I obviously wouldn’t be fond of chiseling my body

Out of warpaint.

Whoop, I meant make-up.

Wait, no I didn’t.

You roll over from your nap

You whisper “I love you”

And that split second before I tell you

that “I love you too”, because I really do,

I tell myself of course you do.

Calm down.

Quit overreacting.

You’re not listening.

You don’t understand.

What’s wrong with you?

Breathe.

I need to breathe.

Because despite common belief,

Saying calm down,

Does nothing.

Nothing but cause overreaction.

I’m all ears.

Explain to me what I don’t understand.

Explain to me that

I don’t understand hormones.

Or maybe

That I don’t understand pressure.

All ears?

I am.

But you are wasting breath

Telling me what I already know.

Truthfuly?

You want to know what’s wrong with me?

Step into my mind,

The confusion will swallow you.

If I write it down,

You will drown in ink.

If I speak it,

You will go deaf,

And I will be mute.

I want no self-pity.

Take it.

Save it for someone who begs for it.

No.

For once

Could you listen to my story

Before you think I’m finished.

You might be surprised.

There might be a sudden twist at the end.

I can never dance

Ballet, because the goblins

Like to tug on my

Toes. I’ve always wanted

My skin to be more Carmel

Than cream. I am unable to

String long words into

A sentence thanks to my

Lack of sophistication. I

Don’t know why parrots

Exist or why trees can’t

Talk. I often sit on a

Big, green metal box

Looking out into a seemingly endless

Field of corn lost in the corn

Maze of my seemingly endless

Problems. I think gold is

Ugly, and wood is a girl’s

Best friend. I contemplate

What humans would look

Like if we all never had

Eyebrows. Too bad the world only

Exists of what my insignificant

Mind can see.