Who Am I? | Teen Ink

Who Am I?

April 25, 2012
By sjs234 BRONZE, Alpharetta, Georgia
sjs234 BRONZE, Alpharetta, Georgia
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Who Am I?
I am my father
Stubborn, and tired, but still young at heart
I am the dimples and the chocolate brown eyes
Not to mention the sweet tooth.
I am our late night snack of burnt toast
Always slathered with cherry jelly
Always eaten in unison
With the pinky held up, of course.
Yes, I am my father
For better or for worse

I am my friends.
I am loyal, but stupid
Lacking of common sense.
I am all the inside jokes
That somehow never faded
I am the secrets
The ones we would tell late at night
That are still tightly locked up
With the key forever thrown away
Don’t worry.
They’re all still safe with me.

I am the countless nicknames that still stick
Even to this day.
I am the empty crevice you have left on my heart
One that can’t be mended
Even with the strongest of stitches
One that can’t be filled
Even with a flood of new friendships
But it’s not a bad thing
It’s a spot I’ve reserved
Just for us
Yes, I am my friends
For better or for worse

I am an open book
laying outside
I don’t belong,
But no one beckons me in
And every now and then
A roaring wind will blow
And the pages will rustle and flutter
Uncontrollably
And in a split second
It will flip from a story of a free bird
To caged one

Eventually, the book becomes torn and tattered
Dabbled with rain and mud,
But the story is still the same--
Still readable,
But only to those who care to look inside
Those that look past the flaws that years of wear and tear have brought
And look at what it stands for
As the saying goes,
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Yes, I am an open book.
For better or for worse

I am my diamond ring
Unique, meaningful, and always reflecting
Especially on the past.
I am the stories it never ceases to bring
Back to memory
Stories of Grandpa
And as I look deep in to it
And see myself staring back
I can’t help but to think of him

Once again
I become the scent of cigar smoke
That smell is like perfume to me.
I become the games of cards, checkers, and chess
That he always let me win.
And I become all the plastic rings
That he used to mail to me.
Yes, I am this diamond ring
The one that was his
But that he left for me.
For the best.
Definitely, for the best.



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