I found myself staring at things that I wouldn't have spared a glance at. I found myself pausing in the aisles of a run-down clothing store, threading my hands through the sleeves of a shirt that used to make my nose wrinkle like a rabbit. I found myself grinding my teeth at songs that, if it were years previous, would have seen me leaping to my feet to dance along. I found myself unrecognizable. In a good way. They tell you that just as seasons do, people change. "Time goes by, people change, nothing ever stays the same." Maybe I've been like this the whole time. Maybe I'm just peeling back layers that I never knew could be peeled; maybe I'm a drawer endlessly full of false bottoms. Maybe it never really stops, I'll keep loving new things and hating old things and dipping my toes in everything that catches the light. It's a stereotype for teenagers to feel like they don't have an identity. Like they're still finding their place in the world. Maybe my place was to just be lost forever.
YOU ARE READING
Open To Interpretation
PoetryThis is a collection of some of my old poems, short stories, and other writing that I created a few years ago, while I was going through a really rough patch in my life. I wanted to publish it back then, but this is the best that I can do for now. E...
