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NOT THIS GIRL
Private Notes
Private Notes
Notes
In school,
when they asked us about our preferences,
like teachers often do,
I did not have a favorite color.
What about a favorite food?
Favorite song?
Favorite movie?
They thought I was being difficult
so I wrote essays about cupcakes
and the color yellow
and the music of Stevie Nicks
and the Star Wars trilogy –
which I have still never seen.
My girlhood demanded adaptation,
A little improvisation.
By the time I was 18,
I was a chameleon.
Or a butterfly.
But butterflies only change once,
So no –
not a butterfly.
Not me.
Not this girl.
I changed every hour.
Like clockwork.
Like a long day had filled in the minutes
in between each hour
on the face of the clock.
Just whatever helped me blend
the minute marks
and help the hour hands to make speedy circles.
By the time I was 18,
I was more like 80.
I wore the young person uniform
but had the mind of an old
woman.
Some girls stay girls forever.
Not me.
Not this girl.
Comments
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"By the time I was 18, I was more like 80. I wore the young person uniform but had the mind of an old woman." Me too. I have always been told I have an old soul. I try to think of it as a compliment, but I feel bothered by the reasons I was not able to maintain that childlike wonder for very long. Great poem! Thanks for sharing!
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Really cute, I really like it