The Day I Grew Up

The day I grew up

I remember the exact day I grew.

It was my 11th birthday, I had pink streaks and a full face beat.

I was ready to rule the world

I thought I was so grown, so mature

I thought “this is the best it gets”

I thought I was ready to rule the world because I was ready to go bowling

in a shitty 2-star bowling alley

But then I grew.

I thought “I can do anything”

The day I started Highschool.

Highschool was a breeze compared to the next scene.

I became so confident, so secure

So secure that I thought “I’ve reached my peak”

But then I grew

And my peak was sanded down the moment exams came around.

I thought “this is the worst it gets”

But then I grew.

I remember

I thought I was so mature the night of my first sleepover.

I didn’t bring a teddy bear

or call my mum after a while.

I thought I was so independent, so capable

But then I grew.

And I realised I loved my teddy bear

and I needed my mum at every hour.

I feel I haven’t grown at all.

I’m the same I was but is that bad or good?

The day I realised I was still a seed,

I cried and cried and thought

“This is the worst it gets”

But then I grew.

I realised a seed has potential and life long journey ahead.

How can I cut it down when it hasn’t even sprout?

Yes it may be “the worst” right now but wait a min, slow down.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[an original by me]

one day you’re gonna wake up and realize it doesn’t hurt as much anymore btw

“I am, I am, I am. ” - Sylvia Plath

When I was 6 I learnt the alphabet,

When I was 9 I learnt how to divide,

When I was 10 I wrote my first story,

I had to read aloud with a dry

mouth and shaking hands. Hard to

forget: how I could hardly take a breath.

When I was a teen I didn’t live my life,

too busy feeling hopeless in my room,

Clueless, but now I’m 17 soon.

Although I’ve learned these many “clever” things,

It all feels pointless.What if I’m nothing:

a lonely vase? Empty and bare.

“a2 + b2 = c2”

I’ve said it a thousand times over

But who listens to an empty vase?

The vase in the corner who gapes and gawks

at the flamboyant parties that

go … on … on … on … forever and more.

I’ve never been fond of snow or sun.

Or preppy parties where I know no one.

Grey, dwindling flowers aren’t for me either.

Maybe I over analyse too much,

Or maybe not enough.

My youthful petals chip away from me,

to unveil my stripped self and stem.

My bluebell stock screeches the harsh truth

Of how I am nothing but a

lazy

lying

boring

greasy

teenage

bitch.

Step into my strange opera of life.

A never ending comedy of lies.

A deceitful story about the;

sandy summertime of Sicily,

the vast history of Tripoli

and my new friend The Yeti.

I’m a liar.

But lying gets me a gold star,

every single time.

But I’m not 10 anymore,

where a gold star means I’ve conquered the world.

Spring enters the stage while winter leaves.

The crowd cheers and hoots of joy.

A sudden sunrise shines upon the vase.

The petals are not waning anymore.

Instead, new petals grace the once bare bones,

with all new colours, shapes and sizes.

The Easter Bunny hops closer to me.

The Bunny’s basket isn’t filled with sweets,

instead, it’s nothing but rotten treats.

But winter taught me how to persist.

The seasons bloom and die but so do I.

As much as I can be a nasty

greedy

moody

annoying

vulgar

teen,

I can also be that magical

talented

beautiful

introverted

soulful

woman.

I know when I’m 17 or older,

I’ll still be that petunia of pampered

polished

messes.

That I've always been.

The petals of me will bloom and grow,

by day, by night and through snow.

I’m no longer a belittled bluebell.

I’ve learnt the many lessons of this life,

My favourite thing I’ve learnt is:

Who I Am.

I also write original poetry 💓

The day I grew up

Who I Am

Excerpts

Not Originals

If you read them - thank you 🤍

TAROT

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