Hi... My name is Ian

For the longest time I couldn’t speak to girls

Every time I tried.

My thoughts and speech
slowed to a crawl and my stomach

developed a new lining of anxiety.

This is never how I

imagined my adolescence.

I used to have a sea of self esteem.

At six years old, I had

all the older women.

Got Grandma's friends fawning over me

"Ooh, you're so handsome"

or "Your parents are gonna have to

watch out for you."

or, this was their favorite one,

"Can I steal your dimples??"

Had my pre pubescent head bigger

than the 6abc Air Balloon.

I always thought I was going

to be like one of those

guys who made conversation look effortless,

summon Heaven and Earth

with the tip of my tongue,

tastefully twisting twines of

thought together, surprising spectators

with my speech as I willed the

waltz to walk across my palms,

I imagined myself as a god,

wielding words

as naturally as a samurai would wield their swords.

I was 12 years when I realized

that I wasn’t exactly Idris Elba handsome

and I was lacking the vernacular of Walt Whitman.

I had a fat face complimented

by a fivehead crowned with

a vineyard of cornrows.

As my facial features shifted,

people had the hardest time

discerning whether I was a girl or guy.

It got to the point where I’d go

out to eat with my mom and the waitress

would ask us "ladies" what we

would like to drink.

To top it off,  I was short…

Like the type of short where I had

to stand on my tiptoes just so I could ride the rollercoasters

I hated my smile,

The fact that my list of insecurities

grew faster than I did.

My classmates were all too fond

of picking me apart problem by problem.

“1. You have longer hair than I do

2. You’re non-athletic

3. You’re short

4. You clearly dont have money.”

The list only went on and my

smile only grew more lackluster,

so I stopped smiling.

and eventually I stopped loving myself.

It wasn’t until the first time

I touched stage that I truly remembered what

loving myself felt like.

I found my niche and I’m comfortable within

the safe spaces of my metaphors.

Standing up there with nothing but the mic, the lights

and the crowd, I started to gain my confidence back.

Through poetry, through storytelling, I can summon

Heaven and Earth to the tip of my tongue

and reconstruct the cosmos in my image.

I can be that guy who overcame his insecurities.

With confidence I can talk to girls.

At least I think I can..

My girlfriend might say otherwise.

My name is Ian, and I am confident in myself.