I was from light blonde hair cropped below my chin
and a pink toy camera labelled “Barbie,”
I was from Thursday night bedtime-stories
and falling asleep at ten to assure that I make it to school by eight.
I was from my mother’s vintage rollerblades,
too big for my feet,
and a bubble-bath to wash the finger-paint from my legs.
I was from hours of MSN messages from friends I’d never meet
and doodles in my notebook instead of schoolwork.
I was from failures
and feelings of worthlessness
and the dread of waking up.
I was from “why can’t you be like your sister?”
Now I’m from dark brown hair cropped below my chin
and a Canon EOS 60d.
Now I’m from scribbling stories in my notebook
and staying up ‘til two with the possibility that I’ll make it to school by eight.
Now I’m from a pair of hockey skates,
a Varsity letter,
and bubble-baths to wash the acrylic paint from my legs.
Now I’m from plane tickets to meet old friends
and piles of artwork with my signature on them.
I’m from success
and an expired bottle of antidepressants in a cupboard
no longer needed.
Now I’m from a late-night phone call from my sister,
a promising voice saying
“You’re going to change the world in ways you won’t believe”