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Why I Wish I Could Change: A Poem by Sofie Marquardt

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Out of all the things I could be doing right now, I am here.

Cramming my legs in a worn out desk chair, the pink fabric fading to gray.

Typing on a hand-me-down keyboard, passed from someone to someone from someone I don’t know. But we all know it comes from a factory, so instead I'll waste my breath on explaining that, yes, it is old and it comes from somewhere.

The keys sound like keys. They click normally. However, they are too loud.

The desk that my computer lays on is also worn out. Another hand-me-down from another hand-me-down. (We should get rid of the word hand-me-down. Too many letters.) There is paint on the wooden desk. From someone else and me. I sometimes wonder what they painted.

This is what I do with my time. Read something on the internet about endless human connections and fallen angels and believe that I can make something as glorious as that piece of literature. Write something so profound I am able to explain my emotions sensibly for once. And then when I start to write, my hands hover just above the old keyboard that came from somewhere and ultimately, I let my hands fall to my sides and crawl back into bed and look at more of the pretty poetry I'll never write.

Out of all the things I could be doing right now, I am here.

Stuffed in a small chair and typing on a keyboard that is too loud and not finding a job or getting my learners permit or not reading my summer reading or anything else my parents think I should do. I think that I’ll leave everything I ever need to do to the last minute. Because of course I will. Sometimes I wish I could write my way out of things, a way for people to forget my flaws. After all, I will wait until august to start the Lord of the Flies and my parents will scold me for procrastinating and I will come up with an excuse that even I don’t believe.

Yeah.

I really do want to change. I want to change many things about myself. If I could choose, perhaps I would change my looks or how my voice sounds or how smart I am or the way people view me.

My therapist says that I need to stop over thinking things. I think… she's right.

I really do want to change but some times life is hard. Yea, that’s my excuse. And I know the adults reading this who have jobs and kids and a schedule that involves hours of just cleaning The House will want to yell in my face that I have no idea how hard life is. They are right and wrong.

Hm. I think I'm afraid of change.

Don’t get me wrong, I'm scared of many things. Bugs, the dark, cliffhangers in movie sequels ill never watch, planes with any amount of turbulence. But I also think that this fear is different.

maybe I'm afraid of change because of my phone that shows me the pretty poetry and inspires me to write down all the things I'm feeling and then end up erasing. Spending hours editing a paragraph and wishing that I could do the same with myself.

Maybe its my period that makes me sad and overly dramatic and even worse, makes me think

think

think.

Think? Think about that one word looming in the back of my head. Like an ominous fog in books that are too cliché but I still read them. Once I read a book titled “change.” That’s a lie. Change is the fog in the cliché book in my metaphor brain. And its also in this poem

Maybe it’s the school that I go to that makes me afraid of change. Or perhaps the people it introduced me to. The girl down the road with the pretty blonde hair who told me that Santa Claus isn’t real at the age of seven. Or the boy on the football field who shouted slurs at me and yelled at me to walk away and I swear in that moment, my brain shut down. Why is it that he gets to walk away with only a stern talking to and I'm left with therapy sessions and daily doses of medication and reminders that I am not worthless.

Maybe its my anxiety. I wish I could expand on that but if I'm honest I've already written this paragraph over five times. Nothing seems to fit everything that happens in my brain into three sentences.

Or maybe I'm not afraid of change. Maybe, I just can't change. Maybe I'll always stutter when ordering food and maybe I'll always be a little bit too secluded and maybe I'll always try to recreate pretty poetry and then delete it 5 minutes later. But hey, I am 15 years old, crammed in a chair that might be just slightly too small, typing on a keyboard from somewhere and that is also too loud and right now, life is okay. It's not great, I'll tell you that. It is far from perfect. No, screw that. That is an awful saying. Everything is far from perfect. Change is far from perfect. But maybe its enough.

Huh. Change.

© 2019 gmarquardt

Comments

BRENDA ARLEDGE from Washington Court House on July 30, 2019:

Such an interesting piece if work. CHANGE...it is not so scary. But you need to find yourself, what you wsnt to do with your life. Being yourself is important.

There is only one of you, so live your life.

Writing is a great way to discover your feelings as well as put you on track to your own direction in life.

Parents mean well, they want you to have the best life possible, so remember how much you are loved.

Take care, keep writing. Don't erase what you write, there is magic in each word.

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