Poem for English class...
I am from the raw and overly aborted womb of my mother. I am from the hands of a doctor who swore they should name me "Miracle", because he'd never seen such a small child live through prostagladin. I am from a father who wanted to name me Sarah Jessica, and an aunt who though I'd grow up and be trampy if I was named as such. I am from the legs of a five year wold that wanted to walk the runway like a supermodel, that haven't since stopped, and a vocal box that hasn't stopped singing since it learned how. I am from a sister who tried to "disappear" me on my first Halloween.
She was a witch that year.
I was an angel.
She's now one of my best friends.
I am from the dirty streetsof the Phillipines, in schools where I was too pale... too chubby... too American to belong. I am from the streets of New York and the lights of Broadway where my heart belongs. I am from country roads where the fireflies and stars belong. I am from a house I've lived in all but two years of my life, and quite honestly-
I'm still not sure where I belong.
I am from boyfriends who didn't love me and the arms of one green eyed angel who really does. I am from the teary voiced phone calls from best friends, and the 4AM "pep-walks" down town, and the midnight runs to Wal*Mart. I am from all the hundreds of dollars spent- not wasted- on gas and Starbucks with the Brat Pack. I am from the conducting baton and encouragment of my choir director. I am from the love in God's hands- and I've never understood how He can possibly still love me after how badly I've messed up-
but He does.
I am from angry nights of, "You're such a fucking CUNT." and mornings full of kisses and apologies on napkins and post-it notes. I am from car rides full of, "You'll never be good enough."; dreams crushed with, "You'll never be pretty enough."; a concious drenched in, "You'll never be talented enough."
I am from, "You'll never be enough."
I am from one sleepy night that replied with, "Who's Mars and Venus?" and the laughter that proceeded. I am from a step-father who wishes me luck before I jump in the shower. I am from baby brothers who say, "I feel SO much better." instead of "Excuse me." I am from a father who constantly inspires me to keep singing, because I know that once the blackness in his lungs settles in, he won't be able to anymore-
and I've never told him that.
I am from "make your own breakfast, biotch!" and "Get your own!" and the smiles and cereal bars proceeding. I am from "American" nights of pizza and burgers and potatoes and steaks. I am from "Filipino" nights of lumpia and veggies and adobo and rice. I am from "let me make dinner!" nights of tofu burgers, salads, macaroni and cheese, and T.V. dinners. I am from mini-corndogs that were nuked into jerky because she thought "conventional oven" meant "convenience of the microwave". I am from turkey on Thanksgiving that was far too dry for consumption, but everyone ate it- for grandma's sake.
That year, I was thankful for being a vegetarian.
I am from a soul that aches for the Lord. I am from a heart that yearns to love. I am from legs that are still far too short for the runway, but eyes that still sparkle with hope. I am from a skull too thick and a head too strong to allow the errors in my life tear me down. I am from the barbed wire covered walls around me that are slowly beginning to deteriorate beneath the breath of this world. I am from the smiles I flash at sad looking, unexpecting strangers, and the hope that it makes their day just a little bit brighter. I am from a quick temper and a short fuse, but a flame that only lasts a moment.
I.
I am.
I am from.
I am from fear.
I am.
I am from.
I am from music.
I am from.
I am from love.
I am from love.
I am from... I am from.