I am.
I am the hope of my mother, personified. I am the faults of my father forever immortalized. I am the years of bouncing back and forth, the product of their tug-of-war.

I am my grandmother's years of tender care and the sparkling of my grandpa's eyes. I am the fatigue of a family so close we collide and spin out of control, clinging to one another to survive.

I am the sobbing of a 3am phone call and the roaring of my car's 4am ignition. I am the purposeful shuffling of her feet along her driveway. I am the finality with which she shuts my door. I am the loss of a best friend.

I am the frantic heartbeat of children as their parents spill blood in the other room. I am the urgent knocking on my door and the gratefulness in their eyes. I am the flowery scent of their tousled hair and the exhaustion they lay their heads upon beside mine. I am the undying bond between my younger sisters, cut over and over again only to scar over stronger.

I am the good intentions of every passerby and the ignorance of those who know.

I am the responsibility in my older sister as she tucks her four kids into bed. I am the determination in her when she wakes them. I am the regret that mounts with each second as her 23rd birthday nears. I am the ripples of her lost future drowning.

I am the misunderstandings between us, the way she blames me for my success, calling it vanity. I am her chastising me for my right choices. I am the bleeding of my tongue, bitten to spare her of knowing all of the wrong one's I've ever made.
I am the resigned goodbye spoken to a dead line.

I am the inability to deal with people. I am the remnants of a recovering hypocrite, never do be fully healed. I am the failed comprehension of my own advice.

I am Queen of Attention to Detail.

I am self-redemption at its finest. I am sore muscles after spending the night curled in an arm chair. I am the chaos of my thoughts and the inescapable flaws of my rationale. I am the fever that burns in me to write and the constant rearranging of letters and words.

I am the lump I sometimes leave in people's throats.

I am the tear in my middle as I finally choose to leave, and the pounding of Alex's bass as he comes to pick me up, rescue me. I am the loss of control over my tear ducts as I read the letter she wrote me. I am the unfathomable perception of my 9 year-old sister. I am her vows to never stop loving me, never stop missing me. I am the way she writes as if I've died.

I am the realization that part of me has.

I am the aimless way we drive around before deciding on a place to go. I am the bleachy smell of that expensive hotel room. I am the readiness to begin anew and the understanding in his eyes as he drives me to school. I am the solace and salvation he never gave me, but the methods he used to show me how to find both in myself.

I am the shock of friends' faces when they see how much I have changed.
I am the defiance in Alex and Toby's eyes when they're the only two left.

I am the acceptance of Alex's family and the infectious warmth of his mother. I am the giggles that bounce off the walls as his sister and I pick out nail polish. I am the awkwardness of my first pedicure. I am the relief that it's all I've got to be awkward about.

I am the bouncing of our new kitten as he explores our new home and the warmth of him between us. I am the resolution in his kiss on my forehead before I fall asleep. I am the yelp of an angry, squished kitten.

I am the blushing on our faces when we figure out Paul is a boy's name and the persistence of Alex's refusal to be wrong. I am the pat on his back and reassurance that Paul is an okay girl's name.
I am the glaring defeat on his face as I pet our girl, Paul.

I am the newfound security in myself. I am the self-forgiveness finally accepted. I am the ability to stand on shaking legs beside his grave. I am the relentless I Love Yous pouring out of my mouth and soul. I am white tulip petals sprinkled over his name, to scatter as I walk away and perhaps carry off some of his perfection to someone else who needs changing.

I am the lesson learned far too late: that the loss of a life can take yours.

I am every person who surrounds themselves in fortresses of arrogance and ignorance and other ridiculous self-defenses.
I am the shattering of my own.

I am the forced optimism to change myself. I am struggling treading, growing stronger every time I say his name. I am dirty fingertips that have touched perfection only to bury it. I am the comfort that comes with knowing my heart rests within it. I am new life placed before me.

I am eyes wide open.

4 comments | leave a comment