I am from a concrete and wood house, painted white on the outside and painted with memories on the inside

From a place painted with joy, pride, and relief as well as a place to express fear, as the people in the house grew, as well as the amount from two to four, then five as we grew, I bounced from room to room

I am from mornings bundled up in a soft purple blanket, where I rise to the sound of a coffee machine whirring, and my dogs replying with yaps that make the windows rattle, a great comparison to their tiny one foot height

From the salty smell of fish, a pescatarian meal, and the calls of, “Come up for dinner!” returned by a chorus of “One second!” 

I am from coming home and slipping on travertine steps

From a double dead end, with a road ending horizontally and vertically which gives me a safe feeling, like no one will come to my street that intends to do bad

I am from slouching lazily in soft orange chairs as we eat 

From burying myself in blankets to keep out the darkness of the night. 

From taking control in the morning when my mum’s away with the dogs

I am from crafting perfect responses for my homework late at night, tucked away under the blankets

From dreaming of what I would be like if perfectionism disappeared 

I am from dreaming of my procrastination disappearing so I can finish things efficiently 

I am from hoping that humans will show compassion for the Earth and its living things

I am from fried rice, sizzling on the pan as soon as I leave it with no one to stir it

I am from inhaling sweet pork enveloped in sweeter bread after a long day

I am from quickly pushing Cheerios and oatmeal in my mouth, then hurrying around the house to reach school in time

I am from repetitive long hours of my cheek pressed to a frosty window, my breath melting the frost in streams of water, until we reach the snow or city

I am from coming down carpeted or wooden stairs to find two balls of fur bolt to the bottom, eagerly waiting to see me for the first time of the day

I am from my disorganization, my room full of hoarded things

I am from curling up in a good book, oblivious to the world outside of it 

I am from my writing, taking me into a fantasy coming from my mind, filling in the world

I am from shouting through layers of fabric so my voice can reach the people next to me

I am from fear

From wishing fear away

From a struggle for power

From being betrayed by people who should keep you safe

I am from ignorance of the problems our world is facing

I am from courage

From seeing light

I am from perseverance 

From belief

And from hope that when the future comes, the young that the Earth will now take care of, will be better

I am from a new generation 

This is where I’m from