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I Am MeI am from the pile of crumpled pieces of paper on the floor, from Kraft, moving trucks and slamming doors.
I am from that one place, then another, then back.
I am from clover and chains, the meters of wilted sweet in the sun.
I am from tacos at least once a week, from Michelle and Corey and Gaston and Douglas.
I am his "burrito", his girl, his one, where insult-based humor is the norm and words are never enough.
I am from a place where I knew only of the backyard and my bed, from being dragged between home and home. From "carrots will give you boobs" and "Papa's monkey, Nana's dolly, Momma's baby".
I am the kind of person that places my life within a song, then lives it to the tune.
I am from tearful emotions and poor poetic writing skills, from not caring and continuing writing this anyway 'cause I can and I have to.
I am from a family where isolation is a reward and dinners consist of silence with a side of awkward.
I dream of lights, laughter, love, and life. Of e
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