i don’t have one identity.
i am instead a layer of multifaceted bricks,
each level a different chapter,
each hue a new idea,
each bump a unique thought
and each shade a valuable step.
i am a combination of passions and possibilities,
i am not a static two-dimensional wall.
i can take risks, feel regret
and still carry on.
i can be flourishing personally
and still want growth professionally.
i can feel too tired, yet content,
and strive for a harmonious status quo.
i can be happy with what i’ve built
and still manifest a steeper climb.
you know what you know because:
someone before you
taught, paved, led, dreamed.
in time, you will not fear the shape of your face,
or the hair on your arms,
or the bump and crook of your nose.
soon, you will not wait for his approval,
because you will learn the only acceptance you need is your own.
in a few years, you will get better at laughing at yourself,
ignoring when others laugh at you.
you will build barriers around things you know will hurt.
i know you will learn to say no, or yes,
and not feel guilty.
the world doesn’t end for you,
you’ll want to create for it, with it, in it.
i thought i wouldn’t get through you.
i was stuck at the start, in a pool of hot
tub water, stuck to one of those water jets.
you were attacking me —
or was i letting other people do that?
my friends said, “your eyes are dark,”
and, “i’ve never seen you this low.”
i was drowning in that pool of hot water,
i was stuck there,
dreading the air free from my bed.
i learned: i have to be strategic
about what i give myself to.
i love so hard and so deep that
when i’m forced to give something up,
i crack more than a broken joint.
i learned: i define, “career,”
and my job doesn’t define me.
i learned: i can still do good and do well,
without being hollowed in hell,
surrounded by people who won’t lift me up,
who will tell me i’m failing, only because
it will guarantee them the raise
and me: the same job with bad pay.
i learned: you’re just a year and you aren’t forever,
but with lessons
and journeys uncovered.