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.