12 to 20

12;

Tight shirt and chubby cheeks, neon shirts and sandals.

The outside is an abyss of unknown, the dim screen is familiar.

As I sit, I ponder about the muffled yells. A door slam breaks my thoughts.

I continue watching.

13;

Poptarts, Coco puffs and chocolate.

Comfort is a reach away.

14;

Caterpillers, playgrounds, cheap sheets and beds.

The shelter walls are foreign, but I adjust. 

I'm getting older, I assure. Courage is mustered from within.

I admire the caterpillers along the sidewalk, dulling out a conversation.

My mother weeps behind me.

15;

New apartment, new car and cat.

A breath of relief.

16;17;

content. A weird emotion brews within.

18;

The emotion continues.

19;

Realization. Anger. Loss

I come to terms with my childhood and struggle to cope.

I had grown constantly, there was no time to be a child.

20;

Peace. Hope. Acceptence.

I let go. Help comes in talks and carefully prescribed pills.

The growth is not complete, but I now walk with a lifted chin.