I am from a sheet of blank paper lying on the edge of my table,

Waiting to be covered in words.

From seeing a world of stories blooming in my mind and only one

Playing  

Out

In front of me.

From looking for the right words to write, but coming up short.

I am from reading my favorite books over and over again,

And wishing they could be my own.

From folders filled with stories.

To a mind filled with ideas,

This is where I’m from.

      I am from sitting around a long table covered in food,

      The dark mountains in the distance overlooking me as I eat.

      From seeing all of my relatives in the same place, together.

      From lying in the soft snow of New Hampture on Thanksgiving Day,

      This is where I am from.

I am from slurping down the steaming broth in my bowl at Coco’s Ramen,

Noodles unraveling out of my spoon,

And the mix of flavors rising into the Ice cold air.

From a family of activists at my side when things go wrong.

I am from shivering as a blanket of fog surrounds me,

The bitter cold stinging my arms, not bringing me down

But lifting me up.

From a small neighborhood,

To a big city,

This is where I am from.

       I am from just another house in a world of people,

       Only blocks away from our old one.

       From eating microwavable mac&cheese while watching movies with my brother at home.

       From keeping the fish in the ocean instead of on my plate.

       This is where I am from.

I am from hiding from an unknown world of judgment.

From acting, even when I am not in drama.

From not scraping up enough courage when I need to be brave,

From saying everything on my mind, and then regretting it.

From trying to be who people want me to be,

To struggling  to bring back myself,

This is where I am from.