content warning: just an introspective monologue to my past self, should be good

I Talk A Lot To My Past Self

I see so much of you in me.
The way I smile. The giddiness
of learning something new.
I see it in the way I grasp my body,
touch my face, all those little insecurities.
I see it in the quiet moments,
when I do something outrageous,
make a nonsensical joke.

It’s hard to believe I was ever you.
I’m so different now, even though
you left your mark on me.
You filled your head with what you knew,
little judgments created by ignorance
and the fact you didn’t know
how to express the way you felt.

But you were also kind.
I know your hands; they’re my hands,
even though my hands are bigger now.
They touched gently. They gave
the best hugs. They still give pretty good ones.
I’m not sure what you’d think about me,
and that’s the strangest bit of all.
We’re one in the same.
Would you hate me? (No, that’s not like you)

Tonight, I will tuck you in and sing you a song,
and tell you that it’s okay that you’re different.
I’ll let you know all the words you need to know
to describe yourself.
You’ll be okay, kid; you’ll make it out.
After all, I’m still around.