Give thanks each mom for the sturdy boys. Your heart from the joy each day should reap. When our wee one flies to her mother's arms Wait not till the little hearts are still Your darlings still need your guiding hand Wait not till the little hands are at rest The frog that croaks, the lark that sings,īut just last night they stumped me, when In all these ways, children add to the wonder of being alive. We envy them the freshness of adventure and the discovery of life. We put them to bed with a sense of relief -Īnd greet them in the morning with delight and anticipation. We adults live a life of apprehension to what they think of us Ī life of defense against their terrifying energy Ī life of hard work to live up to their great expectations. They fill the earth with joy and good humor. The sweetest, for they are the freshest from the Hand of God. So how the hell can I ever love my actual self if you have me loving the plastic version everybody else wants.Children are the most wholesome part of the race, To say that it wasnt a joke & hairy legs will surely keep they boys away & he and my step mom laugh as we travel down the sidewalk in Burlington, VermontīECAUSE OF THE HAIR THAT GROWS ON MY LEGS So, even though it is occasional, notice my silence.īecause silence is the loudest sound of all. Even though I talk, it’s not because I want to. When I am sitting alone at the lunch table, uninterested in what used to draw me in and rile me up, that is what I want someone to notice. I want someone to notice my occasional silence. Notice the ease in which I am able to isolate myself. Notice when I’m not laughing at a joke I should laugh at. I am too scared to repeat my former mistakes, to overshare and have it escalate into something that it shouldn’t be escalated to. I’m not looking for attention, because apart from this, I’ve never actually told anyone or anything this, not even my journal. I don’t laugh genuinely, all of my smiles are forced. I used to cry, used to sit in front of my mirror, asking myself who am I? Now, I can’t even feel anything. Why would the straight A, student council representative not be fine? I don’t know. My teachers, who are lovely people (which I am so grateful for), do weekly check-ins on how everyone is generally doing. I don’t feel comfortable saying how I feel. The times in which my brooding, silent self comes out at school is when I feel most vulnerable, like someone will find out a secret about me. I feel so alone, not because I lack in friends but because no one, not even me, knows my true self. I don’t even know who I am anymore, the mask of happiness I wear at school, or the empty girl who comes out in the lonely hours of the night? While I might seem content, my mind is racing with impatient thoughts. I pretend to be fine at school, then I lock myself in my room for days, just trying to make sense of it all. The once-bubbly, full of life me has been replaced by someone who doesn’t care whether they have 1 or 100 friends. I made many friends easily due to my ease of conversation. I made a reputation for myself as the loud, outgoing leader. The childhood innocence was back, talking talking talking. I switched schools (by my own decision,) changed my life, and improved. While my mind was dark, it was still bustling with life, albeit a little less than usual. Even when I hit the lowest point of my childhood at the age of 11, causing me to go on medication to improve my mental health, I was still talking talking talking. This got me in trouble at times, but it was always the same- such a bright young girl, love her spirit, etc. My mind, so eager to share the ideas it had proudly created, caused my mouth to never stop moving. As a child, I was always labeled as the “talkative” one.
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