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- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
I Am From
I am from knowing someone so well,
to being not aware of any part of that person,
looks, feels, voice, nothing left.
It was chosen,
knowing that stings the most.
Only memories to bring it back.
I am from questions without any answers,
wondering where and why.
Finding out things that make me so angry,
but can’t say or do a thing about it.
Being shielded from the truth,
hid under a lie.
I am from the little zoey doll with tattered hair,
to playing in Menominee Park,
in the blustering fall wind, to the warm summer days,
wailing when we had to leave,
From the brown prairie dogs at the zoo,
that I could watch,
mesmerized for hours upon hours with pure appeal,
Things that make up my childhood,
the memories that replay over, and over in my mind.
I am from Barbie, and Bratz dolls, Polly Pockets, and stuffed animals,
pretending to bring them to life with voice, clothes, and personality,
thinking that maybe, somehow, they understand me
From the multiple imaginary games with my sister,
to making fairy houses in the backyard with dainty sticks and leaves,
hoping that one day it would be put to use.
Imaginary play was day in and day out.
I am from the books of Dr. Suess,
how the words twisted and flowed with every voice who read them
The Secret Garden, being read to me by my grandma,
didn’t understand every word but tried to, as various pictures flew
through my mind.
Books that made my imagination grow,
with every word,
I am from a vast food variety,
never the picky type.
From eating sweet potatoes so much my cheeks turned orange,
to big sandwiches with delicious cheese, and cucumber.
Big but simple.
Making homemade pizza with mom,
the smell of the pizza sauce, dough, cheese, black olives, and onions,
so strong I could just about taste it.
All the smells and tastes a part of me.
I am from old friends, and new, some who stayed, and some just a faint blur.
From the dreams I’ve dreamt, to the ones I haven’t yet,
from the old days of make believe, to the ones that seem too much like reality.
From the memories that cut,
to the ones that I’ve yearned to relive.