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My Younger Self
if i could visit
my younger self
i would go back
to when i was innocent
i laughed
more than i cried
i didn’t know what trauma was
or mental illness
or even death
i only ever cried
out of physical pain,
never emotional pain.
the loudest sounds
i could imagine
were lions roaring
and childish shrieks of joy,
not screams of terror
and anguish
i could never have imagined
spending more
than one day in a hospital -
most likely as a result
of a broken bone,
or temporary sickness -
let alone spending
hundreds of days
in various hospitals
for reasons
other than physical ailments
i didn’t know
what calories were,
didn’t think of some foods as “safe”
and others as “fear foods”
i didn’t need caffeine
to get through the day
i didn’t know what drugs
or alcohol were
semicolons were punctuation
and butterflies were
beautiful insects
that had no deeper meaning.
i wouldn’t have understood
if i was told that they’re
symbols for recovery
i was fearful of getting hurt;
never in a million years
would i have expected
to crave it,
long for it,
purposefully inflict it
on myself
there was a sparkle
behind my eyes,
like a gem,
that had not yet
been stolen from me
i enjoyed school
i savored the time
that i got to spend
with my friends,
and playing outside,
and doing crafts;
rather than watching the clock,
counting down the minutes,
waiting
impatiently
for the day to end
my friends didn’t
abandon me
or spread rumors about me;
no one was fake.
when i was upset,
i always went running
into the arms of my parents,
not running
away from them
in anger.
i was happy,
couldn’t fathom a time
in which i woke up
in the morning
wishing i hadn’t.
i was told
i was innocent.
i took that as an insult
i now wish i had cherished
those early years of my life,
when i was oblivious
to the brutality
of the world around me.
i will forever be filled
with regret
that i didn’t live my younger years
to their fullest,
and that i lost
my childhood self
far too young.
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To whom it may concern, my name is Molly Dickerson. I have been writing poetry the past few years as a hobby. I struggle with mental health, and have used poetry as a creative outlet and positive coping skill. Last May (of 2023), an essay I wrote was published on the NAMI blog, detailing my experience in mental health facilities, and describing the crisis bed shortages throughout the country. I am submitting my poem "My Younger Self." Thank you for your time.