A Poem to Myself

Her stress and anxiety pulls her deep into the abyss, covers her body in slick black oil and strangles her like the ocean.

Constant trembling is her heart, distracted by all, the erratic rhythm, throbbing at an alarming rate in her head, echoes of a rock song,

The buzz swells, interception of reality and whatever vital, encapsulating her mind, her body, and her soul.

All scorching red windows lay upon her, she does not give into their stinging red glare.

All gleaming stares penetrate her mind but leave with nothing from her.

She resists fear from the plagued society that tells her she has to be the definition of beauty, says she needs to have skinny legs, big eyes, a small face, and of course a big butt. She must have a thigh gap that every girl oh so desires, and perfectly long hair. She must be afraid, even though she is fearless.

She has to be ladylike, even though she loves to burp out loud and does it twenty-four seven. She cannot wear baggy clothes even though they make her feel comfortable in her own skin just because they’re labeled in the “men’s” section of a clothing store. She has to get all A’s and be smarter than all the boys in her class even though she sometimes struggles on her own school work.

She must shave her legs, not her hair because her mother will disown and criticize her everyday for looking like a boy. It will get so bad, that her mother won’t even want to go out in public with her because she doesn’t want people to know she is her daughter.

She has to go as far in life as her sister in Berkeley and way better than her cousin in Yale. She cannot do her homework in peace without being terrorized by one of her uncle’s lectures about all of her imperfections. She is scolded at meal time, “Don’t eat too much,” they say, “you’re getting too fat,” as they praise society's idea of a perfect body shape, or “put this on your face it will get rid of your pimples,” and “I can’t even look at your face you have too much acne, so ugly.” She has no right to be imperfect. They tell her to stop doing what she loves because it won’t get her far like her sister.

But she fights back, she says no, she will not submit to societal expectations.

She lives with the ideas provoked by her own experiences

Through her racist parents, she lives and she learns.

She praises in the back of her mind, think of yourself, not anyone else.

Analytical over a hair out of place, that be the end of her, live and let live,

The future, is unclear but do not be frightened, she will feel it soon

Loses herself beneath the soft cloud of service for others.

Every drop of oxygen she inhales follows with an exhale into an array of calm

Rich, warm, oxygen, conveying the spirit to move on, strength covered in selflessness.

Transform positivity into actions, take initiative of your own life,

Obtain power to dictate your own life, not anyone else

Someone else is not ethical, only to yourself

Living for your own being, that is righteous

Bravery through the pain and hardships, only cripples the power pain once had

Rise like the sun and start anew, never look back but listen to you

What is expected is worthless, it is what you have wrought for yourself

Every morning we have a choice, to either live in our dreams, or wake up and chase them.