Writing

I hate how everything is now

I hate how everyone watered my roots with their poison

how my strongest limbs have been sliced from my trunk

how the rich green of my leaves dulls to a mulchy brown as they fall

down

It felt nice, I guess

Not the backstabbing wannabes

But

The smell of chlorine

How it wouldn't get out of my hair

The racing swimsuit

How snug it was

Streamlined

How fast I was in the water

Everything

Is always a competition with you

Isn't it

You always have to prove you're the best when you know

We all know

You're not

Like saying "playing on the big stage is fun"

I wanted to cry

I can feel a lot of things.

Sensitive, but not like you'd think.

Not like crying all the time

Or getting upset.

I hide it well, I think.

I've learned to mask my temper

I feel so much older

I’m the oldest in my grade

I could’ve been going into high school

My birthday was right on the edge

My friends are all one to two years younger than me

And it’s a gap I can feel

24/7 running in my head,

not a moment of peace and constant

restlessness.

24/7 walking to a beat,

a pressurizing pulse to synchronize

every action with a piece whose name

I can't recall.