A Pattern

It started with a pattern.

A simple opener, clichéd and the same as others

With short lines that made no sense even in context with a simple premise

Written with the intent to just get an A in a class that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

But then…

I started writing for me

I wrote poems that I would read

Poems about my experiences throughout my 18 years of abstract feelings of

Love, Sadness, Hatred, Disgust, and Embarrassment

That turned into poems free from the patterns I grew from those class that limited me.

The love I felt for people who never loved me back

The love I feel now for a man too old for me

The sadness and self-loathing I felt when I ruined a friendship with my first cell phone

The awkwardness for it now, agonizing over if she remembers it or not.

Hatred when I actually experienced racism

Disgust I felt for being called “Oreo”

Being asked out because I’m exotic

The only black girl someone would date because I’m accessible enough but I don’t pass for white because of my name and melanin

Embarrassment while I correct people in my name pronunciation every day of my life

Wishing I had a simpler name.

I wrote my way through it

Pushing my emotions to words on a screen and on paper

That once began with a pattern.