What I wouldn't give to go back to a time of blind optimism
When all we knew was our family's love for us
And what happened in the schoolyard.
Mom and Dad were happy,
And we got here because a stork dropped us off on our parents' doorstep.
Our biggest struggles were who to partner up with for projects
And growing up seemed like an impossible feat.
The things I would do for just a sliver of that innocence, that faith,
For the sparkle to return to my cold and lifeless eyes.
Back to a state of adolescence where people only played with toys,
Only broke glow sticks,
Only cut paper snowflakes and hand turkeys.
7 year old me didn't know she had depression.
She didn't know anyone did.
A world where she would contemplate taking her own life
Is one far beyond her comprehension.
With her fear of blood,
She would never understand why she'd summon it herself.
7 year old me was happy.
7 year old me didn't care who her president was,
She had no idea it would affect her so.
7 year old me had not a clue what she wanted to be when she grew up-
She couldn't think past the first grade.
When you're young, you allow yourself to believe that things will always stay how they are.
"Growing up" a mere rumor adults told to scare us.
You always consider yourself the smartest one in the room,
When everyone knows something you don't.
You don't know about the hatred, the bigotry, the riots, the wage gaps,
You don't know that people are fighting for their basic human rights.
You don't know that you'll be oppressed for who you are or where you come from.
You just know that you eat every night,
Go to sleep in a warm bed under a roof that's cool in the summer and cozy in the winter,
Attend school with people you imagine will be by your side forever.
You don't understand that life gets in the way-
That you won't remember most of them by middle school, let alone after college graduation.
You wear the clothes your aunt bought for you-
You're the center of all affection until her granddaughter is born.
Your mother is with you every Christmas
Until the one year when she's not.
Suddenly, dad's in the hospital and you have to stay with your cousins.
He is discharged and divorced,
And Mom won't even call the house in fear he might answer.
You're exposed to death for the very first time,
And rather than comforting the grieving,
You ponder about a scenario where it was your father instead.
You scream for the first time that you hate your life,
Oblivious to the fact that it would one day become your anthem.
You find out that it's more than just sticks and stones that are capable of breaking bones.
You discover that something drastic has to happen before people care, or even notice you.
Suddenly, five hundred dollar cameras are being forced around your neck,
Your friends are smoking weed, self harming, and falling in love,
And you're left wondering what happened to the last six years.
When did it become okay to entrust you with such responsibilities?
Your best friend barely speaks to you anymore,
Your passions are shifting,
You lose touch of who you are.
You haven't written a story since the new school year began,
You forget what believing in a god felt like.
Eleven, twelve, not quite thirteen.
You're not sure what you are.
Are you a kid? Are you a teenager?
Something in between?
How can you define yourself if they haven't crafted a suitable word for you yet?
Suddenly you're the one getting into relationships,
Kissing under trees in the park,
Writing spoken word,
Learning to love and let go.
You trade in your flowery dresses for black sweatshirts.
You curse out loud for the first time and someone offers you marijuana.
Your first zit develops and you hate mirrors.
You judge yourself for not looking like them,
For not acting like them,
For not fitting in with them,
For not being them-
What are you doing here anyways?
They don't notice you now,
They wouldn't notice if you were gone.
You're having more than a hard time finding where you belong and who your true friends are-
All the ones you thought you could trust are long gone.
You've lost all sense of freedom and empowerment and invincibility.
It seems like anything can hurt you now- even yourself.
Especially yourself.
Your heart aches while your mind screams and your stomach churns.
Anxiety, depression, anxiety, depression.
Suddenly, you're in high school,
And the new president is setting up the country for future graduates,
Is setting up the country for you.
You're outcasted where you feel most at home
And you're awful at what you're passionate about.
Your friends make you feel ignorant, inferior, inadequate.
You can't trust anybody because they all leave in the end.
You can't put your heart on the line or it will break.
You can't do this,
You're too young to think, to speak, to feel.
You're told when to walk, when to eat, where to go.
You're forced to listen to lectures on the irrelevant,
And every day you wake up just to make it to your final goodnight.
You stay awake in the darkness of your room,
The entire house drifting away into tomorrow.
You feel safest here.
You can cry, you can scream silently, you can be yourself.
Nobody is around to judge you.
Every day, you go through hell just to make it here.
To feel calm, because it's almost always the only time all day.
Suddenly, you're growing up.
You're stressing out about things that don't matter,
You're crying yourself to sleep every night,
You're wondering where the last ten years went.
I would do anything to go back and live the childhood I never had.
To run, play, sing and dance like nobody was watching.
I want to believe in... something.
In humanity, in something beyond my comprehension,
I don't want to live in fear, in sorrow, in the lines of a love poem.
I want to be more than a grade percentage or a number of friends.
I want to be viewed as more than my age,
To find positivity in everything,
To be okay after a mere apology.
I just want to be innocent.