One Day

Fri, 12/15/2017 - 10:14 -- vann116

I live in a house full of fostered kids who have problems, which is also known as a group home. Which is a house that’s run by the state, the government, the system…whatever you wanna call it.

 

Anyways.

 

I got into an argument with one my counselors and they concluded the debate by saying:

“You’ll be a good lawyer one day.”

 

I went to school the next morning; and one of my good friends was going through a family crisis. He concluded the really depressing conversation with:

“You’re gonna save someone’s life being a therapist one day.”

 

That same afternoon, I was talking to my mother over the phone. Ending the conversation about my poetry, she stated:

“You’re gonna write wonders one day.”

 

One day, one day, one day,

And I just really thought this reoccurrence was funny because every time I look in the mirror I ask:

“Who the hell do you wanna be today?”

And every time I get remotely close to knowing, there’s always something saying and claiming that “no, you’re not cut out for this this isn’t you don’t do this.”

 

I can’t be a lawyer because I hate politics. Lord forbid anyone brings up Trump and the Mexican immigrants I literally build my own wall that says “no politics allowed.”

AND

I can’t be a therapist because I’m terrible at empathy and sympathy and listening to people’s problems because I have too many of my own. I don’t like people in general and I’m unnaturally socially awkward for an out-going and open-minded being and I just don’t see it working out.

 

And. And. And.

And I would love to be a writer, but there has got to be more to life than blue words on a scrappy piece of paper and releasing it out to the red world. And when the writing is meant to be lilac and the world will turn around and make it violet and God there has to be more.

 

But all I hear is “One day, one day, one day.”

Well “one day” I wanna know what I like and who I am because I am expected to go to college and I am expected to succeed because all people see is this (points to brain) and not this (points to heart.)

 

They see what’s on my report card but they never bother to look at the words I wrote to get that honor roll they love so much.

They see the score I got on that open discussion, but they never bother to ask for the words I said for the conversation to unfold.

 

Did you know that foster and adopted youth have their college payed for and/or waived?

 

Did you know that?

 

I did. The people who say “one day” knew that and I feel because of that simple fact, it’s like I’m the only hope to somehow erase the statistics of foster kids that have been developing for years.   

 

It’s like, “Wow, straight A’s, articulate, accepted into 2—not one, not none—but 2 colleges, and on top of that she’s a 16 year old senior? By golly she’s the answer. This is it; we’ve found the second coming of Einstein.”

 

(a laugh, a chuckle, something.)

 

I hate disappointment. I hate it when I can’t make someone happy or proud of me.

I hate it when all people see are my problems instead of my progress.

The State insists that I do this and I do that and I be this and I be that. And I’ll say “no” and they’ll tell me “you just don’t know”

 

Then what is it? Because I want to make them happy and I want to make them proud so tell me why I don’t know tell me what it’s about.

I mean, I want to know but then again I don’t want to know…

And I’ll tell them this and all they say is

“One day you’ll understand”

“One day you’ll care”

“One day you’ll get there”

“One day you’ll grow up”

 

Yah, I will, just not today because I’m still young.

I’m ready to party and pull all-nighters and have stupid teenage excuses.

I’m ready to make mistakes.

But I guess since kids fucked up before, kids like me have to fix it now.

Kids like me that are fostered…

Kids like me who are smart…

Kids like me who are smart and fostered and have potential they have to fix it NOW they have to and they have no choice and I’m just here to say that I JUST CAN’T.

 

I can’t fix it… (sadly laughs)

I can’t tell every failing student to go get a tutor and I can’t tell ever teenage drug dealer to go find a different job and I can’t tell every teenage stripper or prostitute to put some clothes on, go home, and tell your mother you’re sorry I JUST CAN’T. I’m sorry.

 

I can’t make The State happy, I can’t make them proud. I can’t be who they want me to be, I just can’t…

 

Just not today.

  

Did you know that I wasn’t always the star child? I know, I know it’s unbelievable and it’s wild! If you know me, all you’ve ever heard is “straight A” this and “college” that BUT

I used to be that drug dealer that trafficked child that truant daughter…

I used to be the person police officers didn’t like, the person the state doesn’t want in the system.

 

But now I’m here and I’m 16 and I’m succeeding.

My job isn’t to be what they want, it’s to be who I need and I know people aren’t going to like the fact that I want to travel and journal and BE HAPPY and LIVE

But that’s okay.

Because today, I can be a lawyer because it’s not all about politics and

I can be a therapist because I care about kids like me and

I can be a writer because I’m pretty damn good at it and through my writing I can tell them that ONE DAY…I’ll make them proud of me.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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