mjluvsmoomins

When I was in seventh grade, my teacher put on our desks a pop quiz, and question one was hard, but question five was harder (was the colonization of America inevitable?) and I stared at that question because I couldn't stop thinking about my home

They tell me their stories

All the fun here and there

They tell me their lessons

What they chose to hear

They tell me their worries

How lucky am I?

To feel loved?

In a household and a family and a school that makes me feel not worth it

not good enough 

and I found someone outside of it all who loves me?

It's December already

I've been alive for over thirteen years

over thirteen years of learning and growing

making mistakes and accomplishing feats

of finding myself and uncovering layers in not only myself

I thought you didn’t care.

You laughed the same with everyone,

spoke easily,

walked away like nothing stayed behind.

So I told myself

I was imagining it—

the way your eyes lingered