Writing

     In my tenth grade English class, we read Fahrenheit 451, and we were asked to answer this question: how did Ray Bradbury's predictions hold up? It was an intentionally broad question that once stumped me.

Lifejacket strung on the clothes line,

Still dripping with lakewater and smiles

From when I skied across the great

Puddle of light that sits in front of me now,

I looked in the mirror

And today

Instead of focusing on my flaws

On picking out everything I hate about my face

Instead of being my own worst enemy and self-critic

I looked

Really looked

At this girl

At the beginning of the year,

I lost myself

So completely

To the crushing waves of despair,

Hopelessness,

Sadness,

I am always angry

But usually I can put my anger away

This girl

Takes every conversation

By storm

Walks in

Not like she owns it

But like she knows what she wants

And there is no way around it

She will have it

This girl

Fighting

her mail and packages

stacked up

like she’s gone on vacation

like she’ll be back to pick it up

i bet if the postman knew

that the house is forever empty

he would throw it away

like it meant nothing