A Letter to A Younger Self
9 years young.
Future bright as the morning
sun rises from the east.
Your Eastern features are ones
you will grow to love.
Sparkling almond windows
stare deep, revealing
an espresso colored soul.
Your nose does not fall as flat
as the insults they flail at you.
Razorblade tongues cannot hide
in already full mouths.
As your mouth smiles,
you realize your eyes can too.
The parabolas they compared you to
in math class were the worst analogies
You're more of a sine curve,
One whose face flows
with the ocean, the one you were
named after, "of the sea," takes
the saltiness of a hot day,
turns it into laughter.
Laughter cannot be stored
in memory boxes
that fill the basement
of your parents' home.
Home will look leagues different
when you grow up,
but know this,
you will be in a league
of your own.
Never forget the way
you want to become
the best chef in existence,
Never forget how
you want to become
a world class seamstress
Never forget how
chemistry is the most
magical thing your nerdy
heart dreams of
at the end of your rainbow,
Never forget to dream.
You were born to dream,
to stretch,
to be stretched,
to be something more
than you could imagine.
You are a lot more than they think.
As you grow older,
see how brightly you shine
as the sun sets in the west.
You belong here too.